,!1 
'I'll 









! \ '. 



i I' '' 

:4,:'ii)illi[l!lllllll!!illliil 

! 

li' 



•nil V y il 



i ' , ' 



ill' 



Library OF CONGRESS.* 

L PK^p — ^ I 

I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. | 




Erii-lhyAH Hil'h'r VK 



^.^ 



cAla^e^ 



THE LIFE, 

LETTERS AND REMAINS 

OF THE 

REV. EGBERT POLLOK, A.M. 

AUTHOR OF 
"THE COURSE OF TIME" 

AND 

"TALES OF THE COVENANTERS." 

BY 

JAMES SCOTT, D.D. 

PASTOR OF THE FIRST REFORMED DUTCH CHURCH, NEWARK, NEW JERSEY. 



" God put into his hands 
A holy harp, into his lips a song 
That rolled its numbers down the tide of Time. 



NEW YORK: 
ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL ST. 

1848. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1848, 

rV ROBERT CARTER, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 

Southern District of New York. 



STSRGOTYPBD BY THOMAS B. SMITH, 
216 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y. 



PREFACE 



I SPENT the summer, and part of the fall of 1828, the 
recess of the Glasgow University, in Eaglesham, Renfrew- 
shire, Scotland; and enjoyed much of the society of 
James Dobson, Esq., surgeon. His friendship was valu- 
able and profitable, for he was a man of rare attainments 
in science, especially optics, language, and poetry. He 
had been an early friend of Dr. Mungo Park, the African 
traveller, with whose family he still kept up intercourse. 
He had also been the intimate friend of Robert Pollok ; 
had watched over his progress with something akin to 
parental solicitude ; and knew well his sti^uggles, suc- 
cesses, and history. Nor was there any locality or inci- 
dent alluded to in " The Course of Time," of which he 
could not speak intelligently and eloquently. 

There were reasons that occurred during that time, 
which induced Dr. Dobson to urge me to attempt a Life 
of the Bard, with a dissertation on the poem. The work 
was immediately undertaken, the Christian Canticle read 
and expounded, localities visited, and facts collected ; but 
soon afterwards, in the face of encouragement to proceed 
with it, I abandoned it, convinced that it was a subject 
demanding the energies of a maturer mind. 

In 1842, after a residence of ten years on this conti- 
nent, I was invited to dehver an address before a lyceum, 



IV PREFACE, 

on the life and writings of Pollok, The reception of the 
essay, with the fact that no befitting tribute had been 
offered to the memory of the great Christian Poet, led 
me to resolve to prepare such a memorial of him as the 
facts in my possession would enable me. 

In 1846, when I had nearly finished the work, a Life 
of Robert Pollok, by his brother, the Rev. David Pollok, 
and published in Scotland some three years before, was 
put into my hands. On reading it, I found that although 
my plan and views were not developed in it, still there 
were numerous additional facts which I had not ; besides, 
the letters and literary remains of the Poet, to which no 
one could have access but a member of his family ; thus 
rendering the publication of my volume of doubtful ex- 
pediency. 

, However, after longer reflection, and suggestions from 
various quarters, it appeared proper to me to rewrite my 
Life of the Poet, incorporating every fact of his brother's 
in it, introducing also the Letters and Remains ; and thus 
to make it not only a volume of authentic biography, but 
one too of illustrative dissertation on his works and life, 
this being a desideratum in feligious poetical literature. 

Such as it is, with this history of its origin, progress, 
materials, and interruptions, I present it to the American 
public, as a loving tribute to the memory of the greatest 
Christian poet of the century. 

J. S. 

NEWARK, NEW JERSEY, APRIL, 1848. 



CONTENTS. 
BOOK I. 

THE POET'S CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL DAYS, 



CHAPTER I, 

PAQK 

Thoughts about the Dead — Biograph}'^— Pollok born in a great 
Poetic Period — His Poetry alone Religious — His Relicrious 
Pedigree — Scotland's Religious History — Rise and Progress 
of the Secession Church — His Ancestry adhere to it — Some 
of them exposed to Persecution — His Parents' Birth-place — 
Mid Moorhouse, .13 

CHAPTER IL 

Mind — Influences on it — Mental Character of Pollok's Parents 
— The Scotch Pulpit — Philosophy, Preaching, Catechizing 
— Schools, Influence on Scottish mind — Pollok's Friends 
affected by them — His Parents efiicient — Letter from his 
Mother— The Poet's Tribute to her Memory, . . . 23 

CHAPTER IIL 

The Mind measured by Thought — No Autobiography of PoHok 
— Incidents of his Childhood— The Mind shaped by Circum- 
stances — Physical and Mental changes of the Poet — His prob- 
able Conversion — He tries Chairmaking — Moorhouse Libra- 
ry — the Poet's early Reading — Success In Composition — 
Scenery around Moorhouse, its Influence on the Poet — 
Quotation from " The Course of Time," . . . .31 

CHAPTER IV. 

Plan for writing Biography — Influence of Mrs. Young's deatli 
on the Poet's Mind— Lines on <' Tlie Dying Mother"— AUu- 



VI CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

fflon to Luther — The two Brothers, David and Robert, re- 
solve to Study for the Ministry — The probable Causes — Quo- 
tation — Announcement of the Plan to the Parents — Classical 
Studies at Fenwick School — The first of January at Moor- 
house — The Poet reads Pope's Essay on Man — Influence on 
his Mind — a Poem — Reads Milton — Influence on his Mind — 
Lines to Eliza — Finishes his School course, . . .45 



BOOK II. 

HIS LIFE DURING THE UNIVERSITY COURSE. 

CHAPTER I. 

University of Glasgow — First Session in it— Prelection Sys- 
tem — Class Ode to the Sun — University Session — Return to 
Moorhouse — Spring Returned, an Ode— Jane — The Weeping 
Maid, 63 

CHAPTER II. 

Second Session — Campbell's Influence on Greek Studies — The 
Poet studies Oratory with the Author of William Tell — Ode 
to Moorhouse — Summer recess — Studies — Lochgoin — Poetry 
— Third Session — Studies Logic, Rhetoric, Greek, French — 
Letter — Prize in the Logic Class, 76 

CHAPTER HI. 

Summer Vacation — Letter — Professes Religion — Excursion — 
Descriptive Composition — Studies — Fourth Session — Moral 
Philosophy Class— Professor Mylne— Studies Greek — Death 
of Young — The Preachers of Glasgow — Their Influence on 
Mind— Old Dargol, 89 

CHAPTER IV. 

Missionary Society— Address before it— Beauty of the Oration 
—Hymn, J05 



CONTENTS. Vll 

CHAPTER V. 

PA.GE 

The Biographer Hke the Navigator — Essay on Compositional 
Thinking — University Library — Letter — Books — Visit to 
Ayrshire — Journal — Stanzas — Mauchline, Burns, Wishart — 
Strange Omission — Letters — Death of David Dickie — Letter, 1 19 

CHAPTER VL 

Fifth Session — Hutchinson, Adam Smith, Thomas Reid, Mei- 
kleham. Miller, Simpson, Watt, Thomson, Nickols, Review 
of the University course — Death of Durant — PoUok's Talent 
at Conversation — Coleridge— Essay on Originality— Tokens 
of the Poet's Industry — Close of the College Epoch — George 
Buchanan, Graham, Hislop, Tannahill, Burns, Scott, Camp- 
bell, Wilson, 139 



BOOK III. 

HIS BIOGRAPHY FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF HIS THEOLOGl- 

COURSE UP TO THE INCIDENT WHICH ORIGINATED 

"THE COURSE OF TIME." 



CHAPTER I. 

Literary Degrees — The Poet Master of Arts — Great Law of 
Knowledge — Educated Mind — Homer, Virgil, Dante, Milton, 
Shakspeare — Letter — Paisley, Robert Bruce, Witherspoon, 
The Wilsons, Woodrow, Sir WilHam Wallace — Descriptive 
Letter — Extract— African Maid — Theological Schools, Fisher, 
Brown, Boston, Hill, Dick, Chalmers, .... 169 

CHAPTER II. 

Divinity Hall — First Homily and Incident — Versatility in Com- 
position— Studies — British Poets — Dream about Milton — 
Helen of the Glen — Scene — Drumclog, Claverhouse, Old 
Mortality — Address on Preaching, . . . .187 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

PAOB 

Poet's Correspondence — Beattie, Cowper, Burns, Scott, Byron, 
Arnold, Simeon, McCheyne — Close of the Second Sessional 
the Hall — Letter— Visit to Auchindinny— The Lothians, 
Pentland Hills, Martyr Stone— Letters— Ode to Melancholy 
— Letters — Agnella — Letter — Finishes the Persecuted Fam- 
ily and Ralph Gemmell, 201 

CHAPTER IV. 

Visit to Edinburgh and Auchindinny— Letters— Stay at Moor- 
house— Letter— The Child— Visit to Galloway, Mauchline, 
Airdsmoss — Richard Cameron — " Bonny Doon," — " Allo- 
way's auld Haunted Kirk" — "Tarn O'Shanter" — Ballach- 
niel — CrossraguU — John Knox — Quintan Kennedy — Turn- 
berry Castle — " Hallow-e'en" — Daily — Dr. Hill— Girvan — 
Ailsa Craig — Loch Ryan — Luce Mull of Kintyre — Glenapp 
— Glenluce — Michael Scot — Letter—Invitation — Divinity 
Halls — Sermons — Letter — Tales of the Covenanters, , .215 



BOOK IV. 

HISTORY OF HIS SUBSEaUENT LIFE AND DEATH ; WITH DIS- 
SERTATIONS ON HIS POEM AND CHARACTER. 



CHAPTER I. 

Origin of the Paradiso, Gerusalemme Liberata, Paradise Lost, 
The Reformation, The Task, The Cotter's Saturday Night, 
The Course of Time — Byron and PoUok — Letters— Progress 
of the Poem — Letters, 239 

CHAPTER II. 

Death Mysteries — Death of the Poet's Mother, her Grave— 
His Fourth Session in the Hall — Excursion to Loch Lomond 
—Origin of the Description of Byron — Letters, and progress 
of the Poem— Visit to Auchindinny and Dunferinline — Let- 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAOS 

ters, and proposition to publish Three Books — David Pollok's 
Letter in Answer — The Poet's Heart laid open — Extraordi- 
nary Mental Effort — Letter announcing the completion of 
the Poem, . 252 

CHAPTER HI. 

Fifth Session in the Hall — His Contemporaries— His Standing 
as a Student — Transcribes the Poem at Dunfermline — Mr. 
Campbell's Omission — " The Course of Time" Scenic — Letter 
— Miss Swan — Poetry— Examination before Presbytery — 
Calls on Mr. Blackwood— Letter— Homily — The Publisher's 
Answer — The Press, Wilson, Moir — Manuscript of the Poem 
— Introduction to Wilson — Letters — Critical Exercise — The 
Poem Published — Letter — Reception of the Poem — Latin 
Exercise — Licensed to Preach, 271 

CHAPTER IV. 

Analysis of " The Course of Time"— The Plot— The Poem a 
Homily — The Poet Immortalizes Poets, Dante, Shakspeare, 
Milton, Thomson, Cowper, Byron — Pictures in the Poem — 
It is the Calvinistic Poem— Its Unction — Homer, Virgil, 
Dante, Tasso, Milton, Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, By- 
ron, Campbell, Scott — The Greatness of Religious Poems — 
Thalaba, Curse of Keharaa, Endymion, Manfred, Alaster, 
Remorse, Lallah Rook, Messiah— " The Course of Time" not 
Symmetrical— True position from which to judge of it, . 285 

CHAPTER V. 

The Poet a Preacher — First Sermon — Letters — Presbyterial 
Appointment — Illness — Letters — Proposal to visit Italy — Visit 
to Aberdeen— Byron, Beattie, Gregory, Jamieson, Burnet, Ar- 
buthnot, Swift, Pope, Campbell, Gerard, Reid — Letter — 
Darkness— Letters— Movements of Friends in Edinburgh to 
send him to Italy— Sir John Sinclair— Letter— Poet returns 
to Moorhouse — Appearance — Moorhouse, .... 303 

CHAPTER VL 

Departure from Moorhouse for Edinburgh and Italy— Even- 
ing in Glasgow— Deputation of the Students— Address — 



X CONTENTS. 

PAQK 

Browning, Hill, King — Journey to Edinburgh — Portrait — 
Macnee — Calls from Literary Men — Henry M'Kenzie — Mrs. 
Gilmour's opposition to the Tour — Injudicious Advice — Lock- 
hart's Life — Will of the Poet anent the Poem — His Execu- 
tors — Letters — Parting at New Haven — Voyage to, and ar- 
rival at London — Ex-Mayor Pirrie — Letter — Mallena — Visit 
to Westminster Abbey — Letters— Singular Providence— He- 
len's Grave— The Harp no more retouched, . . . 320 

CHAPTER Vn. 

Southampton — Beauty of the Scenery — Isaac Watts, Leigh 
Richmond — Desire at Death — Journey and Exhaustion — 
Lodgings— Sunday Walk— Scene for the Artist — Three states 
of Human Nature— The Poet's love of the Bible— Sir Walter 
Scott — Attentions to the Poet — Told that his case is hopeless 
— Letters — Conversation about Death— A Saint at Prayer — 
Chalmers— Senses supernatural ly acute — Chamber of the 
Ikying — His Last Night on Earth— Death— Movement in 
Glasgow— Letter— Burial, and the whole Visible Church re- 
presented at it — Letter of Condolence — Monument and In- 
scription, .... 336 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Visit to Moorhouse— The Poet's Pulpit— Dialogue — The Crow 
Stone— Bochim— Incident— View of Moorhouse and Scenery 
around— The Poet's Father— The Chamber of Inspiration — 
The Family Group — Mournful Reminiscences — Characteris- 
tics of the Poet— '^ The Course of Time"— The Biographer, 352 



BOOK I 



THE POET'S CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL DAYS. 



" A young immortal then was born ; and who 
Shall tell what strange variety of bliss 
Burst on the infant soul, when first it looked 
Abroad on God's creation fair, and saw 
The glorious earth, and glorious heaven, and face 
Of man sublime 1 and saw all new, and felt 
All new 1 When thought awoke ; thought never more 
To sleep. When first it saw, heard, reasoned, willed; 
And triumphed in the warmth of conscious life 7" 



LIFE OF POLLOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

" In humble dwelling born, retired, remote 
In rural quietude ; 'mong hills and streams 
And melancholy deserts, where the sun 
iSaw, as he passed, a shepherd only here 
And there watching his little flock ; or heard 
The ploughman talking to his steers." 

Who has not dreamed about the beautiful faces 
which have often looked out of the windows of our 
houses, and that are now covered up with white 
shrouds in the green graveyards : nor been haunted 
with wishes to know the story of all those gone off 
to eternity, whose canticles we sing, books we read, 
architectural structures we admire, pictures and 
statues we gaze on ; and whose wisdom, heroic 
deeds and eloquence, will float forever, like undy- 
ing angels, along the hill-tops and the sea-shores of 
earth ? Alas ! few and scanty are the memorials of 
the dead which time has kept from oblivion. 

The desire, too, to meditate on the dead, is in- 
finitely increased, when we consider that they still 
continue to live, think, act and feel : that the re- 
tiring from the house of clay and the going away 
from earth, is not the utter extinction of being : 
2 



14 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

that they have merely changed locaUties, but not 
their essential nature. The great thought maker 
is imperishable, and so are its thoughts. Are not 
ideas the leaves and blossoms of the immortal soul ? 
The rod of Moses Vi^ith its leaves and buds w^hich 
blossomed and w^ithered not, is a beautiful and 
truthful emblem of the human mind and its thoughts. 
" If a man die, shall he live again ?" The Gospel 
"hath brought life and immortality to light." 

There is one mind amid the population of disem- 
bodied souls, whose existence on earth can never 
be forgotten by the Christian. " The Holy Harp 
which God put into his hands," " will roll its num- 
bers down the stream of time." The unction of 
that song has already fallen like the dews of the 
Spirit of God on many a heart, and given existence 
and direction to innumerable trains of holy thought. 
He has become the centre of an interminable circle. 
Nor can a finite being put a true moral estimate on 
" The Course of Time." 

In portraying an individual mind, it is necessary 
to look at it in all its manifold relations : so in this 
effort to sketch the story of the young Christian 
Poet, Robert Pollok, I will not only consider the 
thoughts which he created and uttered, but also the 
circumstances operating on him and producing 
them : the men who were contemporary actors with 
him, and the country itself where he arose and 
flourished. What would the " Divina Comedia" be, 
if isolated from the scholastic theology and philos- 
ophy of the thirteenth century, and cut off from 



EPOCH OF GREAT POETS. 15 

Italy and Italian scenery and literature. It is not 
possible to write biography without frequent digres- 
sion and episode. 

The period in which Pollok appeared was one 
of uncommon intellectual splendour. The harp of 
Burns, the real Shakspeare of Scotland, was yet 
vibrating with his last inspirations. Cowper's 
" Castaway" thrilled the admirers of " The 
Task." The hand which had struck the Northern 
Harp and produced the "Minstrel," was just 
palsied. Crabbe, Wordsworth, Scott, Coleridge, 
Southey, Campbell, Byron, Shelly, Keats, Moore, 
and others of immortal name, were all living at the 
time in the island of Albion. Never before had the 
English muse such a faculty of bards. It was in 
this brilliant constellation of poetic stars, that Pol- 
lok arose and shone. He was born at North 
Moorhouse, parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, 
Scotland, on the 19t.h day of October, 1798. 

Scotland too, is, to a mental portraiture of the 
author of " The Course of Time," what background 
is to the landscape. It gives a colouring to every 
characteristic of his genius. Its history, poetry, phi- 
losophy, legend, scenery, sons, daughters, and relig- 
ion, are the many-coloured rainbow which span his 
whole life. They are the warp and woof of his song. 
Scotland is to hiai a land suggestive and fruitful of 
ideas. His visions are of her eventful story. " Her 
solitudes" are the places " where nature sowed her- 
self and reaped her crops." *• Her brooks" were 
his " minstrels ;" her " moon and stars" his lumps ; 



16 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

hei' " thunderbolts" his orators ; and her '* everlast- 
ing hills" his rural palaces. 

" The Course of Time" is a poem, too, which 
hangs alone in the gallery of the epoch. The 
most beautiful and finished of the others appertain 
to earth ; this alone is a heavenly song. Scott had 
struck the " Harp of the North" to chivalry and 
love. Byron worshipped at the shrine of the clas- 
sic muse, and embroidered his songs with eastern 
garlands. Shelly sung of Deism, Southey of Pan- 
theism, while Pollock undaunted arose and touched 
a *' Holy Harp, which God had put into his hands." 
The heart of religious Scotland was instantly moved 
by his numbers. It is impossible to look back over 
that tract of time without feeling that " The Course 
of Time" appeared on the earth and testified in be- 
half of the remedial scheme. It was a canticle 
about the God of the Bible; rich, too, with the 
jewels of the Gospel, as well as gorgeous with the 
colourings of earth's most variegated scenery. 

But there can be no likeness given of Robert Pol- 
lok which overlooks his pedigree ; nor is this anom- 
alous in biography. Did not the ancients trace the 
origin of their heroes up to the gods ? He had a 
long line of pious ancestry, which sustained pe- 
culiar relations to Scodand, and to religion in the 
kingdom, especially after the great Reformation of 
the sixteenth century. A brief sketch of Scot- 
land's religion will not be irrelevant to the estab- 
lishment of this point. 

In no other country on the earth has the history 



Scotland's religious story. 17 

of the church been more eventful and tragic. In 
the third century Paganism was abolis'ied and 
Christianity estabhshed. In the fifth, Prehicy was 
introduced at the very time the heresies of Pela- 
gius were producing immense excitement. In the 
seventh Pontifical, Itahan missionaries arrived, who 
harassed the native clergy and people, because 
they refused to acknowledge the Pope's supremacy, 
and recognize the unscriptural law of priestly celib- 
acy. In the twelfth, many of the abbeys were built 
for the promotion of monkish devotion. In the fif- 
teenth, WicklifF, " the morning star of the Reforma- 
tion," taught in Ayrshire the very doctrines after- 
wards proclaimed with such vehemence and suc- 
cess by John Knox. The sixteenth century stands 
out on the canvas of history with uncommon prom- 
inence, as the era of Hamilton, Wishart, John 
Knox, Buchanan and the Melvills. In the seven- 
teenth century there was a great baptism of blood. 
The pen of history has always had to record the 
fickleness of the human mind as exhibited in the 
unsanctified masses : but here we turn aside to no- 
tice the tergiversation of the church of God. In 
the very advent of the eighteenth century, a spirit 
of worldliness began to come in upon the church 
like the coming in of waters. The principles for 
which the martyrs had contended and spilled their 
blood w^ere lost sight of In the chief places of the 
kingdom, ministers w^ere settled who were destitute 
of the spirit of their predecessors. Indeed, in a very 
few years, much of the fervid spirituality of the 
2* 



18 LIFE OF PCLLOK. 

Gospel, for which so many prayers had been offered 
from the tops of snowy hills, and for the mainte- 
nance of which so much of Scotland's best blood 
and treasure had been expended, was supplanted 
by a cold, Christless formalism. 

In the year 1732, this state of things reached a 
crisis. Ebenezer Erskine preached a sermon on 
the prevailing worldliness of the Kirk, in which he 
animadverted with great yet faithful severity, on 
the ministry. Much excitement was produced by 
it, among all classes of society. In a year or two, 
after much injudicious policy on the part of infe- 
rior judicatories, he and three others were suspend- 
ed from the ministry by the General Assembly. 

God, however, was in this movement ; for these 
men, with their adherents, have become a great 
nation, and were made in his hands a conservative 
influence to the whole Kirk of Scotland. It was 
this nucleus which grew, spreading its branches 
not only over Scotland and Protestant Ireland, but 
among many of the states of the American confed- 
eracy, and which gave birth to such divines as the 
Erskines, Fisher, Boston, Dick, and the late Dr. 
John Mason, of New York. 

This secession gradually gathered around it much 
of the deep, decided piety of the kingdom. It was 
only a spark at the beginning, but it soon became 
a great fire. Those, whose minds were imbued 
with the martyrology of the kingdom, with the 
memories of the Reformers, and filled with the an- 
nals of the religious struggles, adhered to it. Be- 



THE poet's martyr LINEAGE. 19 

sides these, there were the enemies of a state relig- 
ion, and many of the ardent lovers of civil freedom. 
Among those in the west of Scotland who cast their 
influence in with it, were the immediate progenitors 
of the Author of " The Course of Time." His 
father was nurtured in the first congregation of this 
body, which was organized in Renfrewshire, and 
his mother in the first in Ayrshire. 

This digression casts light on " The Course of 
Time." Nor is it possible to avoid the conviction 
that the mind which produced it was raised up for 
that purpose by the God of truth. There is, truly, 
a pedigree of mind which is more worthy of notice 
than that which is merely physical. The princi- 
ples and habits of parents are often entailed on their 
children. National traits and peculiarities are 
traceable to this affinity. There are characteris- 
tics which distinguish families. The wife of John 
Welsh was the daughter of the Scottish reformer, 
and inherited his mental peculiarities. Her biogra- 
phy would make a beautiful and befitting sequel to 
his. The history of Pollok's ancestry is essential to 
the development of his literary life. The fervour, 
spiritualism, and lofty aspirations after religious 
liberty, which pervade his great poem, compel us 
to look back to this noble source. Three of his 
immediate ancestry suflfered during the religious 
persecutions of the latter part of the seventeenth 
century. One of them was shot ; another escaped 
to Ireland, where he remained three years in exile ; 
and a third was banished to Barbadoes, whence 



20 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

he returned at the Revolution. The Dickies and 
Gemmells, of Ayrshire, are names which have been 
tried by fire and blood, and are inscribed among 
those worthies whose memory shall never be for- 
gotten while there is one heart filled with love to 
Christ and his cause, in Scotland. 

John Poliok, the father of the poet, was the third 
generation who had occupied the same lands on 
lease from the Eglinton family. Margaret, his 
mother, was the daughter of James Dickie and 
Margaret Gemmell, who occupied a farm in the 
neighbouring parish of Fenwick. The Rev. Mr. 
Guthrie, author of the celebrated treatise, " Saving 
Interest," and champion of the National Covenant, 
has given a prominence and notoriety to this place ; 
indeed, after the lapse of a century and a half, there 
are not wanting proofs of his graces in the lives of 
the descendants of his parishioners. 

Robert Poliok was the seventh child of his pa- 
rents. The family consisted of four sons and four 
daughters ; but three of whom, with the mother, 
had gone to the spirit land before the publication 
of " The Course of Time." He was baptized in 
the Secession church at Newton of Mearns, when 
he was a few weeks old, by the Rev. Andrew 
Thomson. It was, however, in the Secession church 
at Eaglesham, which became the family sanctuary, 
that he worshipped God, when a boy, Sabbath after 
Sabbath, in the great congregation. He was in his 
seventh year when the family moved to Mid Moor- 
house, which is about a mile to the south of North 



HIS "christian song. 21 

Moorhouse. It was here he grew to manhood, and 
wrote the great "Christian Song.'' His own pen 
hath sketched the scenery : 

" Four trees I pass not by, 
which o'er our house their evening shadow threw : 
Three ash and one of ehn," 



CHAPTER II. 

" What tongue 1 no tongue shall tell what bliss o'erflowed 
The mother's tender heart, while round her hung 
The offspring of her love, and lisped her name : 
As Uving jewels dropt unstained from heaven, 
That made her fairer far, and sweeter seem, 
Than every ornament of costliest hue." 

The human mind may properly be compared to 
soil ; if cultivated it will bring forth a larger fruitage 
of ideas; on the other hand, if neglected or placed 
in circumstances where it receives few impressions, 
it will be utterly unproductive. Ideas are the in- 
habitants of the mind, and it will be populous or 
deserted in the ratio of the effort to people it. Nor 
ought it ever to be forgotten, that among the fore- 
most agencies in its formation and development, 
are those of parents, associates, scenery, and relig- 
ious institutions. The Biography of the Author 
of " The Course of Time," cannot be fully written 
without giving an important place in it to the con- 
sideration of these causes and influences. 

His parents were not learned in the arts, sciences 
and philosophy of the schools, yet they were thor- 
oughly conversant with Bible truths. They held 
the Calvinistic scheme to be the only one revealed ; 



HISTORY OF THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 23 

considering all the opposing theories as dishonour- 
ing to God. They knew the positions of conflicting 
theorists. Scotland, in their youth, was a great 
school of polemics. Every sermon which they 
heard was a compendium of divinity ; and many of 
them were rich with sacred and profane literature. 
The Bible was an unlocked and open volume to 
them, and formed their chief library. Every per- 
son in Scotland could read in those days. It was 
an era of sanctified Sabbaths and reverenced sanc- 
tuaries. The noble and the peasant studied the re- 
medial system. God dwelt in the land ! 

Scotland, about that time, was also busy laying 
the foundations of mental philosophy. The sermons, 
while abounding with Bible doctrines and exhorta- 
tions, were often metaphysical. Nor is this strange 
when it is remembered that the great mental gladi- 
ators, Hume, Reid, Beattie, Stewart, Smith, and 
others, contended successively in " the foughten 
field." The whole Scottish people were not only 
spectators, but became, at length, interested parti- 
sans. The teachers in the parochial schools, who 
were an educated class, spoke freely to their pupils 
concerning the conflicting philosophic theories, and 
the clergy discussed them, both publicly and pri- 
vately. In a letter from Dr. Porteus, author of the 
celebrated poem -'On Death," and Bishop of London 
at that period, to Dr. Beattie, the philosopher, which 
may be found in Beattie's fife by Sir William 
Forbes, he makes use of the following remarkable 
language : " In the range of my acquaintance, 



24 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

which IS pretty extensive, both among the clergy 
and laity, I have never yet met w^ith a single per- 
son of true iste and sound judgment, who did not 
speak of your ' Essay on Truth' in the warmest 
terms of approbation." Now, if so great an interest 
obtained in Englani concerning the philosophy of 
the period, how muci greater must it have been in 
Scotland, the very theatre of the antagonist parties. 

It is not to be inferred from this allusion, that the 
preachers of the day substituted philosophy for 
theology, as was partially done at a more recent 
time, in certain quarters in the kingdom. On the 
contrary, they introduced philosophy for the pur- 
pose of defending the true theory of mind and 
ethics, and neutralizing the dogmas of infidelity 
against the genuineness of miracles. Hermeneu- 
tics and sacred history were also made available 
by the ministry to stem error. Nor was there ever 
an epoch in the Scottish pulpit when greater atten- 
tion was paid to instructive, textual, spiritual preach- 
ing. The system of lecturing every Lord's day 
also prevailed. The ministers were in the practice 
of enunciating from the pulpit the Hebrew and 
Greek words which had a disputed rendering, or 
peculiar signification. The people, too, were in the 
habit of carrying their Bibles with them to church, 
marking the passages quoted, and studying them 
carefully afterwards at home. 

Indeed, few persons who had arrived at mature 
years were ignorant either of the disputed passages 
in the Old and New Testaments, or the best ren- 



HISTORY OF THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 25 

derings of them. There was not, perhaps, a pious 
shepherd on the heath-covered hills of the Low- 
lands, who did not know that the words in itaHcs 
were not in the original languages: that there are 
only two passages which allude to Job, out of the 
book called by his name : that the translation of the 
third verse of the ninth chapter of Romans may well 
be, "could have wished" instead of "could wish!'* 
also, the numerous criticisms about 'Slehovah,'' "Je- 
hovah Tsid-kenue," " heavens," '' firmament ;" espe- 
cially the fact that three of the constellations are allu- 
dedto by Job. The word " covenant" too was known 
by them, its Hebrew meaning and use; and that 
portion of the eighth chapter of Proverbs referring 
to the divinity and eternity of the Second Person 
of the Godhead. I particularize these with a view 
of showing the character of the Scottish pulpit in 
the infancy of the poet of "The Course of Time;" 
and especially the philosophical, critical, and theo- 
logical information possessed by his parents. 

The history of th«e church in the world, and par- 
ticularly in the kingdom of Scotland, was also thor- 
oughly enlarged on in the pulpit. This custom was 
greatly facilitated by the epitome of history intro- 
duced into the Bibles of that period. It extended 
only to two or three leaves at the close of the New 
Testament, and was divided into seven historic 
ages. The preachers often alluded to this compen- 
dium. Their glowing, extemporaneous sermons, 
were indeed interwoven with history and prophecy 
idJ<.e sister threads of gold and silver. They expa- 

3 



W9 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

tiated much on the causes which induced, and those 
which were then paralyzing, the progress of the 
Reformation in continental Europe ; on the revolu- 
tionary struggles in Scotland, between Prelacy and 
Presbytery, Armenianism and Calvinism. There 
were also words and thoughts for the conscience 
and heart. The kingship of Christ was a fruitful 
topic, nor can Erastianism ever find a solid foot- 
hold in the kingdom, until the seed sown during 
those days be withered and utterly defunct. 

Catechetical instruction and .annual church ex- 
aminations, had also much to do in forming the 
characters of the people at that time. All the fam- 
ilies in a district convened yearly in some large 
building, frequently a barn, and spent several hours 
in answering questions propounded by the minister, 
the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assem- 
bly being the text-book. The Sabbath evenings, 
too, were always devoted to the recapitulation of 
the heads of the sermon and the lecture, which the 
whole family had heard. The catechism was taken 
up after this and recited by old and young, as the 
concluding Sabbath service of the household. 
There was also a family altar in every house, with 
a very few exceptions. It was in the midst of such 
institutions that Pollok's parents were nurtured, 
and through such agencies that they were qualified 
by God to raise up an intelligent and useful family. 

The parochial school had also afforded them the 
elements of a good education. There were but few 
books in the schools in those days, yet education 



SCHOOL AND FAMILY EDUCATION. 27 

was thorough, and not, on this account, defec- 
tive. The Bible and the catechism occupied the 
first place ; then came grammar, arithmetic, geog- 
raphy and caligraphy. The Roman and Greek 
literature was restricted to candidates for the min- 
istry, law and medicine. By this parochial system 
of education, Scotland was at that time, if not even 
now, a land of scholars. Whether, therefore, we 
think of Mr. Pollok's parents, as mere peasants, or 
morally as Christians, we may set them down as in- 
telligent in the true and proper sense of that term. 
They early became pious, and were spared to see 
five of their children arrive at an age of puberty. 
Robert was their seventh child, hence he had the 
advantage of their maturer judgment and increased 
piety. 

Besides, the story of the religious struggles in the 
kingdom were early written on the poet's heart. 
Moorhouse was within looking distance of many 
of the martyr haunts. The blood of these men was 
also coursing in his veins. Scotland's trials were 
household talk with his parents. It was a holy 
family circle, every day being reckoned by them 
as an integral portion of existence. The morning 
and evening sacrifice afforded the priest of the 
family an opportunity to discourse about the mys- 
teries of regeneration and faith. On these occa- 
sions there went from their united hearts to the God 
of minstrelsy Old Hundred, Devizes, and Dundee. 
But it was the mother who was the childrens' living 
oracle. She sung to them the lays of other years ; 



28 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

related the sufferings of the Covenanters, their he- 
roic bravery and victory over death. In a word, 
she filled up the interstices of their young minds 
with thoughts which were the seeds and roots of 
knowledge, and expounded to them the ever recur- 
ring mysteries of Nature and Revelation. 

Robert often spoke of his mother as his great in- 
structor and educator under God. Nor can I omit 
inserting in this place a letter which he wrote from 
her dying chamber to his brother David, at her re- 
quest. They had both reached manhood at the 
time. It elucidates this portion of my history, and 
illuminates her mental portrait. 

" Moorhouse, April 4, 1825. 
«' Dear Brother — Our mother is very weak, and wishes me to 
tell you that she has little expectation of regaining health. She 
came into the room a few moments ago with your letter in her hand, 
and wished me to tell you that she had read it all over and over 
again with great satisfaction. She wishes to say farther, that it 
should be the great business of all, and especially of those who pro- 
fess to teach others, to set forth, in their doctrines and conduct, the 
loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Jesus Christ. ' These,' 
she says, ' are most astonishing ! the tongues of men and angels 
vnll never be able to speak half their praise.' It is her desire that 
you may, just like the old apostle, Paul, 'determine not to know 
anything in preaching, ' save Jesus Christ and him crucified." She 
adds, ' this is the main thiiig ; other things are useful ; but, who- 
ever wants this, I am afraid his speed will not be great. I am ex- 
traordinarily pleased that you both seem (o be sound on this point. 
I cannot use words sufficient to recommend to you the loveliness, 
beauty, and condescension of Christ ; but I have thought often 
about it, that the Creator should become man for the sake of sin- 
ners ! Surely, such infinite love will never be manifested again ! 
Let it be the business of your lives to set it forth ; it can never be 
praised enough. It gave me wonderful satisfaction to think that 



A mother's eulogy. 29 

he,' meaning you, ' conducts himself, becomingly, I wished to 
say this much, and it is all I have to say ; and I think it better that 
you write it to him than to wait till he come. Perhaps I might not 
be able to say it then. Robert Pollok." 

The poet proceeds, in the same letter, to say, 
that he beheves the time of her departure was at 
hand. These are his words : — " She is, in many 
respects, hke our Uncle David, a few weeks before 
he died. She speaks with the same composure of 
death, with the same warmth of redeeming love, 
and is very like one whom the great Forerunner 
will soon receive into the everlasting mansions." 

From these dying expressions, it is evident that 
she was competent to speak even to her educated 
and pious sons on the subject of Bible doctrines and 
experimental piety. They had both reached man- 
hood when this was written, but they had not out- 
grown her in an experimental and doctrinal knowl- 
edge of Christ. Indeed, there is not anything in 
'' The Course of Time," w^hich I have ever admired 
so much as the following tribute to his mother. 

He was conversinsr with his brother David about 
the theological views set forth in the poem, when 
he observed, these are his very words : — " It has 
my mother's divinity ; the divinity she taught me 
when a boy. I may have amplified it from what I 
learned afterwards : but in writing the poem I al- 
ways found hers formed the groundwork, the point 
from which I set out. I always drew on hers first, 
and I was never at a loss ; this shows what kind of 

a divine she was." 

9* 



LIFE OF POLLOK. 



Her ear was deaf when this eulogy was pro- 
nounced, yet ministering spirits may have carried 
it upwards to her. Nor will this apparent digres- 
sion be regretted by my reader when he considers 
that it is irrefragable testimony to the controlling 
influence of this mother over the poet's young and 
growing mind, as well as in the creation and exe- 
cution of the immortal poem. 



CHAPTER III. 

" His morning hopes awoke before hini smiling, 
Among the dews and holy mountain airs; 
And fancy colored them with every hue 
Of heavenly loveliness." 

The human mind can only be measured by the 
number and magnitude of its thoughts ; nor can we 
ever fully comprehend it, unless we have access to 
these. It is on this account that autobiography is 
so interesting. How different would be the condi- 
tion of man, and the amount of human knowledge, 
if every thought which came into the mind left a 
visible impression on some part of the universe. If 
it was traced on the leaves of the forests, or on the 
face of the clouds and sky, or was pictured on the 
ocean, or took a tangible form like a bird. But may 
there not be something akin to this, although we 
have never seen nor heard of it ? May not the an- 
gels paint our thoughts on everlasting canvass, or en- 
grave them on the precipices of the eternal worlds, or 
treasure them up with the other mysteries of exist- 
ence ? Who can tell, but that his own thoughts are 
so many creations which are as immortal as the soul 
which brought them forth, and that they shall hover 
around and minister to him, through all the future 
eternity. 



33 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

There is no autobiography of Robert Pollok ; 
and no man can go back into the past and collect his 
emotions and thoughts : all that can be done is to 
gather together the desultory incidents which friend- 
ship has preserved, and out of these to shape a like- 
ness of his mind. There are large interstices of his 
earthly existence over which we must step without 
resuscitating one departed thought. Not that his 
mind was not thickly peopled with ideas, during 
these periods, but because we have no talismanic 
powder to bring them back to earth. Like the trav- 
eller who brings with him mosses and shells from 
the shores he has visited, let us concatenate every 
memorial of the author of ''The Course of Time," 
and interweave the story v/ith occasional flowers 
gathered from the highways and bowers of earth. 

In Scotland, some fifty years ago, it was the cus- 
tom to keep little boys in petticoat garments a much 
longer period than now. Nor were they dofled all 
at once, but only on the Sabbaths, requiring, in many 
cases, a lengthened probation to pass from the one 
style of attire to the other. It was said that the 
poet, when a child, felt severely the bondage of this 
usage, and on a certain occasion went to his mother 
and told her " that he ought to put his boy's clothes 
on now every day." To which she replied, with her 
usual decision, " that he would get them on every 
day, when the old ones were worn out." At these 
words he immediately left the apartment ; nor was 
he long in returning, when, to her astonishment, his 
petticoat, being torn round and round into a long 



DEATH AND SORROW. 33 

narrow strip, trailed behind him tortuously, like a 
travelling serpent. He was immediately unrobed 
and accoutred in the Sabbath-day habiliments. 

This incident is more than a childish freak. It is 
one of many things which goes to show that his in- 
fancy was characterised by sagacity and prompt 
decision. There is another occurrence referred to 
his seventh year, which is also worth a passing no- 
tice. It is a memorial of his affections. A solitary 
leaf cast upon the stream will speak of its course to 
the traveller. 

Andrew, the youngest child of the family, died at 
the early age of two years and six months. This 
was a solemn event in the isolated family of Moor- 
house. The lamb had been carried off by angels to 
the great fold in heaven. Every eye wept as it 
looked upon infant innocence sleeping in the em- 
brace of death. It was the holy sorrow of a Chris- 
tian household. They mourned because his lips 
were sealed up till the resurrection day ; and at the 
remembrance of his little vocabulary, new waves of 
bitterness rolled over their souls. There was one 
heart more deeply agonized than the others, and this 
was the poet's. Although he was only in the sev- 
enth year of his age, his grief seemed to be incon- 
solable. He wept one entire day, refusing to be 
solaced. Nor did the tide of bitterness then ebb 
away. On the contrary, for weeks afterwards de- 
jection and melancholy were visible on his counte- 
nance. Who can tell the number and variety of his 
thoughts during that period? It may be that he 



S4 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

asked God in his own childish phrase, what death 
was ? Why did Andrew die ? and where did he 
go? He no doubt assayed in vain to fathom the 
mystery of death. It was a new thing to him. Nor 
can we hesitate to beheve that the impressions and 
cogitations connected with that event became the 
centres of innumerable trains of thought, which af- 
terwards grew out of his soul like leaves, buds, blos- 
soms and flowers. 

Circumstances exert an incalculable influence on 
the human mind. The child whose eye has gazed 
on a sea-storm w^ill have different emotions from one 
who never beheld such a sight. Nay, the child who 
is accustomed to look upon pictures of exquisite 
taste, and to listen to the finest music, though re- 
moved soon afterwards out of the influence of both, 
will have impressions which no subsequent scenery 
or sounds can ever efface. The mind is like the 
sapling which the great wind bends ; ages may roll 
away, but the traveller who wends his way through 
the forest will find a patriarch tree bent down. It 
is this fact which accounts for no small amount of 
the varieties of intellect discoverable in the same 
generation. The incidents of childhood are engraven 
on the tablets of the mind. Old age is usually gar- 
rulous about the prodigies of its youth. The death 
at Moorhouse is an event identified and affecting 
the mental history of the author of " The Course of 
Time." 

It was shortly after this death-scene that Robert 
was sent to a private school at South Langlee. Al- 



EARLY EDUCATION. 35 

though, however, only in his seventh year, he was 
not unlettered nor untutored : on the contrary, 
through maternal instruction, he had attained to the 
high mastery of reading the Bible. Nor was this a 
small acquisition. It reflects undying honour on the 
matron and the son. He had also committed to 
memory the shorter catechism of the Westminster 
Assembly, that grand divinity system of the Scottish 
youth, and no inconsiderable portion of the sacred 
psalter. He attended this primary school for about 
a year, making suitable progress in the course, and 
receiving impressions for the first, perhaps, of intel- 
lectual aspirations and competition. 

In his eighth year he was sent to the parish school 
of Mearns, some three miles distant from Moor- 
house, going and returning every day. A Mr. 
Andrew Jackson was parish schoolmaster. Here 
Robert attended for seven consecutive years, ex- 
cepting the harvest months, when he assisted in 
the labours of the farm. If the educational course 
had been an extended and comprehensive one in 
that school, he would have realized no small amount 
of knowledge ; but the system embraced a very lim- 
ited number of studies. The Enghsh department 
was restricted to spelling, reading, writing and arith- 
metic. There were no prelections given to rouse 
the dawning intellects, nor the necessary school ap- 
paratus introduced of this quadrant of the century, 
to aid synthetic or analytic demonstrations. Such, 
however, as the course was, he gave close attention 



8B^ LIFE OF POLLOK. 

to it, and always maintained a highly respectable 
standing in the several classes. 

His contemporaries at this school remember him 
not only as a scholarly boy, but as a leader in their 
juvenile games. He had all the elements of char- 
acter essential for power. He was vigorous and 
athletic, outrunning the fleetest ; humorous and 
witty, exciting laughter and joyance wherever he 
appeared ; sarcastic and eloquent, reproving when 
improper advances were made ; ready to engage in 
any hazardous enterprise, without one grain of cow- 
ardice ; and always felicitous in his school exercises 
and recitations. 

Two great changes passed over the youthful poet 
during his last year's attendance at this school ; and 
we notice them because they are as lines falling ob- 
liquely over the disk of his early life. The former 
was a merely physical mutation ; the other, at least 
moral if not spiritual. In one of the athletic plays 
he seriously injured his chest. It was a game of 
chase ; he outran his pursuer, bounded like a deer 
over an intervening rivulet, and fell exhausted on 
the very margin of the stream. It was a hot pur- 
suit, for the other boy dropped down on the near 
bank, unable to cross over. For some time they lay 
like exhausted stags, panting by the water, and when 
Robert attempted to rise he felt a severe pain in his 
side. That was a dark day in the calendar of his 
Hfe. He never recovered his former buoyancy, and 
from that hour his ruddy complexion gave place to 
a sallow Italian-like appearance. 



PROBABLE CONVERSION. 37 

The other change, which occurred about the same 
period, was one of an entirely different kind. It 
related to the nobler part of his nature, and was, per- 
haps, traceable to a supernatural cause. He laid 
aside, almost in a day, his impetuosity and irritabil- 
ity, and put on a dignified, calm, and self-possessed 
manner. In subsequent years, he accounted to his 
brother David for this sudden alteration in his mien 
and habits. He ascribed it to the influence exerted 
on his mind by a perusal of the Four Gospels. He 
said he was struck with the meekness and dignity 
exhibited by the Saviour of men in every condition 
in which he was placed, and resolved in Divine 
strength to make Him his model and exemplar for 
the future. 

" The entrance of God's word giveth light" to the 
mind, especially when " the Lord openeth the heart." 
There is a mysterious connection existing between 
the reading of the word and the enlightening of the 
mind by the Holy Ghost. The one is the instru- 
ment, and the latter is the agent, in conversion. 
Previous to regeneration, the mind is like a dark 
chamber, every object in it being comparatively 
opaque : on the other hand, when the enlightening 
process has commenced, it is like to an illuminated 
hall. The dividing line between sin and holiness is 
clearly recognized, and the soul like the languishing 
Hebrew of old, who gazed upon the brazen serpent 
and was healed, looks to Jesus Christ " and is 
lightened." The change upon the poet youth, if 
we may judge from his subsequent life, was one of 

4 



38 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the heart. The Saviour is only " precious to them 
who beHeve." To the unconverted he is " as a root 
out of dry ground." It was the ancient church 
which exclaimed, " he is altogether lovely." Is not 
one ray of light sufficient to show the outlet from a 
dungeon ? The pen of history delights to linger 
around that point in the poet's life ! But it is only 
when the veil is taken off the face of eternity that 
the whole truth in the case will be known. 

Soon after this occurrence, Janet, the youngest 
daughter of the family was married to David Young, 
a cabinet-maker. He resided at the village of Barr- 
head, which was a few miles distant from Moor- 
house, and carried on this business on his own ac- 
count. He was anxious that Robert should come 
and reside with him and learn the trade. The poet 
had never entertained or expressed any preference 
in the matter ; but partly from solicitation and partly 
from a fond attachment to his sister, he consented 
to go and make a trial of his mechanical talents. 
He only remained long enough, however, to make 
four chairs. The reason which he assigned on re- 
turning home, for abandoning the trade, is charac- 
teristic, and sets forth very clearly the prevailing 
bias of his mind. The cabinetmaking business, he 
said, seemed interesting enough while he was making 
the first three chairs, but that he made the fourth 
without thinking, and could not follow any trade 
which did not require thought. We are not sur- 
prised that the author of " The Course of Time" 
felt that there was nothing in the manufacture of 



PATERNAL LIBRAKY. 39 

Scottish ashen chah's to meet the aspirations of his 
mind. 

During the current year, he remained at home, 
assisting daily in the business of the Moorland farm. 
His industrial habits rendered his services highly 
available. But although assiduous and untiring in 
his manual occupations, he did not overlook the 
higher efforts of the intellect. In the moments of 
physical relaxation, he read, studied, and reflected. 
The thoughts which he garnered up from various 
sources, and which continued to aggregate, formed 
the material on wdiich his busy mind acted. The 
library at Moorhouse, though small, was select and 
valuable. The catalogue is brief. There were the 
Holy Bible, with the ancient apocryphal books ; the 
Westminster Confession of Faith, Fisher's Cate- 
chism, the Scots Worthies, a compilation of Mar- 
tyrology, by John Howie, of Lochgoin; Barclay's 
Dictionary, Salmond's Gazetteer, the first volume of 
the Spectator, Burns's Poems, and a school book, 
containing extracts in prose and verse. These 
books were to him as sages with whom he held 
much communion. 

It cannot be too frequently enforced, that it is not 
from the perusal and study of a multitude of books 
that our minds and tastes are enlarged and formed, 
but rather from a few, which are select and sugges- 
tive. The author of " The Course of Time," had 
all in these that his youthful mind required. The 
Dictionary furnished him with the meaning and ori- 
gin of all the words which he acquired, and that is 



40 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the very age for logomachy. The Gazetteer sup- 
pHed him with all the history and geography which 
he could profitably store up in the chambers of his 
memory. The Confession of Faith and Catechims 
settled definitively to him the formula of the scheme 
of Redemption. Addison and Burns were both ele- 
gant models in prose and verse. The Bible was it- 
self a perfect cyclopaedia of Providence and grace. 
Nor could such a mind fail to expand amid such 
living fountains of thought. 

There is one incident related by David PoUok, 
which fully illustrates the positions assumed. It is 
this — Robert, he says, carried out to the field, one 
day, the odd volume of the Spectator, and read with 
much care one of the articles in it. He analyzed the 
subject matter and verbiage, commented on them, 
spoke about the style and animadverted on it. Nor 
was this all ; in returning home from the toils of the 
day, he remarked that he could write something ex- 
tremely like it, and did actually sit down and com- 
pose what appeared to the whole family to justify 
the expression. A rustic boy of sixteen years of 
age, who studied the principles of English composi- 
tion in this way, could not fail to find a niche in the 
temple of undying fame. 

But I would fail to pourtray faithfully the whole 
of the circumstances which developed his mind, if I 
omitted to set forth the scenery with which he be- 
came familiar during this forming period of his life. 
Indeed, too little importance has been given to this 
agency in every philosophic estimate of causes 



PROSPECT FROM MOORIiOUSE. 41 

which mould and operate on the youthful and ex- 
panding intellect. 

There are few places in Scotland from which the 
prospect is more extended and diversified than from 
about Moorhouse. At a short distance from it, 
Balagich hill rises and overlooks a vast expanse of 
most variegated and magnificent landscape. It is 
the great pyramidal elevation of Renfrewshire. If 
it be taken as a central observatory, the radii from 
its green top extends from forty to one hundred 
miles, while the circumference of prospect includes 
some four hundred miles of hill, and dale, and sea. 
There is not, perhaps, in the kingdom of Scotland, a 
tract of scenery richer in historic and poetic lore. 
There is Stirlingshire, away to the north, green with 
the ancient memories of its castle, and the bloody 
Bannockburn. To the east, Edinburgh, its castle 
and palace of Holy Rood, each of which were the 
scenes of the greatest epics in Scotland's dramatic 
story. Nearer to this observatory lie the shires of 
Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, Wigton, and the Western 
Isles — " Scotia's battlement of hills," all immortal by 
the heroic deeds of successive generations. The 
past comes back on the soul, with its wonderful 
memories, as we gaze on that panorama. Amid the 
myriads of dim and misty objects, there seems to ap- 
pear the Wallace and the Bruce, the stalworth cham- 
pions of civil freedom ; and nearer our own days the 
outlines of Welsh, Peden, and Cameron, the apostles 
of Scotland's religion. Here and there, too, on every 
side, stand up, like everlasting monuments, Tinto, 
4* 



42 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Wardlaw, Cairntable, Carpshairn, Ailsa Craig, Ben- 
Cruachen, Ben-Lomond, Ben-Ledi, Uom-Var; hills 
which are crowned with the evergreen laurels of 
native poesie, that Ramsay, Burns, Bruce, T anna- 
hill, Scott, Hogg, and Motherwell wove in the mo- 
ments of their inspiration. Add to all this aggregate 
of real beauty and imaginary glories the glimpses of 
the sea and misty lakes which the eye takes in, with 
the rivers of Clyde, Forth, Calder, Ayr, and Cart, 
that twine around the hills and wind throughout 
the vales, like silver avenues : — whoever wishes for 
one vista of primeval magnificence, let him ascend 
to the highest peak of Balagich, and look east, west, 
north and south. 

It was amidst such scenery as this that the mind 
of PoUok was nurtured. Perhaps there were days, 
and weeks, and months, in which he wandered over 
*' the neighboring hills," and held communion with 
river, vale, hill, clouds, stars and sky. Nor is it prob- 
able that there was one day during the first fifteen 
years of his existence, in which he did not imbibe 
some new conception of the face and lineaments of 
nature. A mind so observant must have distin- 
guished between the clouds of summer and winter, 
as well as between those of spring and autumn, and 
engraved the different tints on the tablature of his 
soul. Nay, he could probably interpret with the ken 
of a seer the future changes of the weather. He must 
have been familiar with the mists and meteors ; with 
the sunlight, moonlight, and the softer, silver light 
of the stars ; with the voices of the waterfalls, the 



EFFECTS OF SCENERY. 43 

songs of the mavis and lark ; with the shadows of 
the mountains ; as they moved silently, like ghosts, 
over the vales, before and behind the pale moon- 
beams ; with the dews and rains, snows and frosts ; 
with the lowing of the cattle and the bleating of the 
sheep ; with the shrill scream of the plover and the 
hum of the wild mountain bee, as it luxuriated in 
the blue bells of the thymy heather. Nor was this 
all ; he must have thought of the rich owner of that 
estate, especially when the wintry winds made music 
to God, when the thunders lifted up their voices, and 
the lightnings hurried past like burning angels. The 
Reformation scenes, too, as they stood before him, 
must have spoken to his soul as voices from eternity, 
proclaiming the Redemption work the greatest one 
of God. These things were before his eye like a 
map, and floating through his mind like an everlast- 
ing river. In his own significant language — 

" His soul was with their glories filled." 

He speaks, in the Fifth Book of " The Course of 
Time," of his feelings and emotions amid these early 
haunts. These are his own words : 

" Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot 
In the wide desert, where the view was large. 
Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me 
The solitude of vast extent, untouched 
By hand of art, where nature sowed, herself, 
And reaped her crops ; — whose garments were the clouds ; 
Whose minstrels, brooks ; whose lamps, the moon and stars; 
whose organ choir, the voice of many waters ; 
Whose banquets, morning dews ; whose heroes, storms ; 



44 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers; 
Whose orators, the thunderbolts of gods ; 
Whose palaces, the everlasting hills; 
Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue ; 
And from whose rocky turrets battled high, 
Prospect immense spread out on all sides round : 
Lost now between the welkin and the main. 
Now walled with hills that slept above the storm. 
Most fit was such a place for musing men." 



CHAPTER IV. 

" His parents saw — his parents whom God made 
Of kindest heart — saw, and indulged his hope. 
The ancient page he turned ; reach much; thought much*. 
And with old bards of honourable name 
Measured his soul severely." 

Might not the order of writing biography be in- 
verted, and additional interest given to this species 
of composition ? If the present was to be made the 
point of commencement, then the writer and reader 
would be like the scientific navigator, who launches 
out into the stream, and sails against the current, 
ascending by his skill to the very head-waters of the 
river. Much would be gained by this plan. Every 
distinct incident affecting the character of the per- 
son described, would be more clearly brought to 
view. It would give greater breadth to the subject. 
It would be like beginning with the base of a pyra- 
mid instead of the pinnacle. It is the analytic pro- 
cess in history. The usual method is the synthetic. 

It is extremely difficult, when a great man dies, 
to leap back over his eventful life, and look unprej- 
udiced on the first buddings of his being. The bril- 
Hancy of his latter days casts a kind of fabulous halo 
over his very childhood. It is hke attempting to 



46 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

sketch a landscape, which is covered with the crim- 
son glory of the setting sun. But to begin with the 
death-scene, and travel back through the wilderness 
of life, would require more philosophy, epic skill, and 
dramatic power, in the narration : hence it is better 
for us to imitate the savage in this particular, who 
reclines in his canoe, and without wind or oar is 
carried by the current for weeks, through the vast 
forest solitude, down to the great ocean receptacle. 

The death of Mrs. Young, in the spring of 1815, 
about a year after her marriage, appears to have 
left an indelible impression on the poet's heart. She 
gave birth to a daughter on the ninth day of April, 
and died on the seventeenth. He was present dur- 
ing the death-scene, and wrote a poetical descrip- 
tion of it nine years afterwards. It was written at 
the request of his brother David, and addressed to 
the little surviving niece Janet, who had, from her 
orphanage, become an inmate of the family at Moor- 
house. This child lived to womanhood. She was 
talented, accomplished, and pious ; and married, a 
few years ago, a Mr. Colquhoun, of Glasgow. But, 
hke her youthful and sainted matron, left him very 
soon to join her beloved kindred in the skies. 

We do not know of anything in the whole range 
of ancient and modern poesy, which will compare 
in faithful delineation, pathos, and beauty, with this 
description of the " Dying Mother." It has the rich 
unction of inspiration in every line ; and seems to 
be the oracular utterance of a bereaved heart. It 
is a Christian Painting of a death-bed ; and such a 



THE DYING MOTHER. 47 

colouring of it too, as the ministering angel of God 
might have sketched. There are hundreds of fami- 
lies on earth, in every generation, that will see 
themselves in it, as in a polished mirror. It is fit 
to be hung up in the gallery of heaven. It is the 
very embodiment and solution of the apostolic query, 
" O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is 
thy victory ?" The poet took it some two years 
after its composition, and inshrined it in the Fifth 
Book of " The Course of Time." 

" Fresli in our memory, as fresh 
As yesterday, is yet the day she died. 
It was an April da}' ; and blithely all 
The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, 
And promised glorious manhood ; and our hearts 
Were glad, and round them danced the lightsome blood, 
In healthy merriment — when tidings came, 
A child was born ; and tidings came again, 
That she who gave it birth was sick to death. 
So swift trod sorrow on the heels of joy ! 
We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees 
In fervent supplication to the Throne 
Of Mercy : and perfumed our prayers with sighs 
Sincere, and penitential tears, and looks 
Of self-abasement ; but we sought to stay 
An angel on the earth ; a spirit ripe 
For heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused : 
Most merciful, as oft, when seeming least ! 
Most gracious when she seemed the most to frown I 
The room I well remember ; and the bed 
On which she lay ; and all the faces too, 
That crowded dark and mournfully around. 
Her father there, and mother bending stood, 
And down their aged cheeks fell many drops 
Of bitterness ; her husband, too, was there, 
And brothers; and they wept — her sisters, too, 



48 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Did weep and sorrow comfortless ; and I, 

Too, wept, tho' not to weeping given : and all 

Within the house was dolorous and sad. 

This I remember well ; but better still, 

I do remember and will ne'er forget 

The dying eye — that eye alone was bright, 

And brighter grew, as nearer death approached: 

As I have seen the gentle little flower 

Look fiiirest in the silver beam, which fell 

Reflected from the thunder cloud that soon 

Came down, and o'er the desert scattered far 

And wide its loveliness. She made a sign 

To bring her babe — 'twas brought, and by her placed. 

She looked upon its face, that neither smiled 

Nor wept, nor knew who gazed upon 't, and laid 

Her hand upon its little breast, and sought 

For it, with look that seemed to penetrate 

The heavens — unutterable blessings — such 

As God to dying parents only granted. 

For infants left behind them in the world. 

" God keep my child," we heard her say, and heard 

No more: the Angel of the Covenant 

Was come, and faithful to his promise stood 

Prepared to walk with her tliro' death's dark vale. 

And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still, 

Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused 

With many tears, and closed without a cloud. 

They set as sets the morning star, which goes 

Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides 

Obscured among the tempests of the sky, 

But melts away into the light of heaven.'^ 

Who has not been reminded, after reading these 
lines, of the quaint and forcible language of the great 
Luther, in reference to such events. These are his 
words : — " There can be no doubt that women who 
die in the faith, in child-bearing, are saved, because 



DESIRES THE MINISTRY. 40 

they die fulfilling the end for which God created 
them/' 

It was soon after this afflictive providence that 
the poet and his elder brother David, resolved to 
study for the Gospel ministry. On a confidential 
conversation relative to their future plans, they 
were astonished to find that it was a simultaneous 
p-urpose with them. The thought had burned in 
both hearts for a week or two before the one dared 
to utter it to the other. There is something curi- 
ous in this fact ; and beyond the range of philos- 
ophy to expound. It would seem as if God had 
sent an angel to drop two thoughts which were 
twins into their hearts. Nor does it require any 
argument to satisfy the Christian that such purposes 
originate in heaven, fast by the white throne of the 
Eternal. It were well for the church and the world, 
if the ministry were viewed more than they are, in 
connection with the kingly office of Jesus Christ. 
There is a tendency in the age both to overrate and 
depreciate the office. " The elders," who occupy 
such a conspicuous place in all the apocalyptic vi- 
sions, are the representatives of the grand army of 
New Testament prophets, who are ^* to go into all 
the world, teaching all nations." It may be difficult, 
nay, impossible, to trace the secret movements of 
God, in that soul, which he has from eternity or- 
dained to be a " torch -bearer" in time : yet the fact 
of his kingly interposition, and calling of it to that 
work, is a verity which is beyond all doubt. 

It is a tremendous dignity to which God raises 
5 



50 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

man, when he chooses him to the ministry of recon- 
ciUation. But as there are no supernatural elections 
of men to this office, as in the case of Paul, it is 
needful that the greatest discretion be used by those 
entering into it ; as well as by those who are in- 
trusted with the ordaining power. 

From all that is known concerning the views of 
the poet, it is evident that he considered himself led 
by Providence to this step. He had an irresistible 
desire to serve God in this capacity. His blameless 
life, aptness to teach, and possession of talents suited 
for the work, were other proofs, which were brought 
to view in his subsequent career. He was never 
permitted to be a pastor of the Lord's family, in 
this naughty world ; yet was allowed to blow the 
Gospel trumpet thrice ; and these blasts were not 
only solemn, but felt to be accampanied by the 
power of the Highest. 

If we gather together the few incidents which are 
preserved of that period of his life, it will not be dif- 
ficult to weave a chain of causes which may have 
induced this purpose. There was the death of his 
infant brother, which produced the most solemn 
trains of thought in his childhood's mind. Then 
the maternal lays and teachings, especially those 
concerning the martyr ministers of Scotland. Next 
the heart-change which was realized in connection 
with the reading of the Four Gospels : nor of small 
importance was the death of his beloved sister, Mrs. 
Young. But these are all belonging to the class of 
visible and tangible agencies. Who can tell the 



INFLUENCE OF PRAYER. 51 

mysterious and irresistible operations of the Holy- 
Ghost on his mind ; or who can put an estimate on 
the unseen influence which the angels of God may 
have put forth, as they ascended and descended in 
their hourly ministries to him ? 

Who can tell how much the prayers of these pa- 
rents were connected with this good purpose of 
their sons ? Doubtless that mother had often re- 
tired amid the shadows of the lingering and deepen- 
ing twilight, communed with Jehovah concerning 
them ; and sought for them, the consecrated office 
of high ambassadorship. A mother whose mind 
was so stored with the rich treasure of the Gospel, 
and who could so well recount the story of the mar- 
tyrs, must have been great in prayer, and a fre- 
quenter of the mercy-seat. Nor can any portrai- 
ture of ours give a life size of the father. He was a 
man of thought and prayer, and acted as the prophet 
of God to his household. He uttered himself in the 
solemn phrase of Scripture ; and had the meek and 
humble mien of a holy man. None but God and the 
recording angel, who registers the prayers of parents 
for their children, can tell the wresthngs of this sire 
for his sons, with the great Angel of the covenant. 
Indeed, whether we look at the agencies without 
or within the soul, which resulted in this purpose 
of the poet ; or consider it in the bud, the bloss- 
om, and the flower, the hand of the Lord is conspic- 
uous. 

The poet's descriptions of the " ungodly" and the 
" faithful minister," in " The Course of Time," show 



52 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

that his mind was filled with a sense of the magni- 
tude of the ministerial office. The one 

" Was a wolf in clothing of the lamb 
That stole into the fold of God, and on 
The blood of souls, which he did sell to death, 
Grew fat." 

The other was a totally different being, he was 

" Elect by God himself, 
Anointed by the Holy Ghost, and set 
Apart to the great work of saving men. 

his call, 

His consecration, his anointing, all 

Were inward, in the conscience heard and felt J'^ 

Our history becomes more dramatic and episodic, 
as we proceed. The purpose of these brothers was 
neither idly cherished nor rashly revealed, but pru- 
dently communicated to their parents at the earliest 
opportunity. Here was a frankness and candour 
which were proofs of their deep filial piety. What 
an evening must that have been at Moorhouse, 
when these two young men poured out all their 
soul, on this great scheme, into the ears of the 
family group. Angels no doubt came there and 
ministered : a great cloud of witnesses were there, 
who were deeply interested in the progress of pure 
religion on the earth: God was there: — and this 
must have been the language of these parents' hearts, 
" Ye are the Lord's, we gave you to him at baptism, 
and have often since reconsecrated you to him. It is 
the Lord's doings : blessing, and honour, and power 



STUDY OF THE CLASSICS. 53 

to Jehovah Tsid-kenue, who is choosing you *as 

golden pipes to empty the golden oil/ " 

On the 2d day of December, 1815, the brothers 
entered on their preliminary classical course at the 
parish school of Fenwick. As it was several miles 
distant from Moorhouse, arrangements were made to 
board and lodge them with their maternal uncle, 
David Dickie, of Horse Hill. This was a highly 
opportune circumstance, because he was a man of 
large reading and sound reflection. There were 
few farmers of such acknowledged talent. His or- 
dinary conversational language was not only ele- 
gant, but terse and powerful. Nor was Robert long 
there, until he called his brother's attention to it. 
Nay, he often remarked in his after life, that his 
uncle's style inspired him first with the desire to 
study language, with the view of making it a per- 
fect vehicle for thought. 

The first day of January is a great jubilant sea- 
son in Scotland. It has been a memorable day 
there ever since the Romans exercised supremacy 
over the southern portion of the island. Then, it 
was held sacred to the bifaciel deity Janus, who 
looked to the Future and to the Past ; but now it is 
devoted to hilarity and festivity. On the advent of 
the year 1816, the young scholars availed them- 
selves of the holiday to visit Moorhouse. It was 
not, however, that they might indulge in the na- 
tional pleasances, but to exhibit their progress to 
their parents. They had been absent for only four 
weeks, yet short as the period was, had made no 
5* 



54 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

inconsiderable advancement. They had committed 
to memory the whole of Mackay's Latin Rudiments, 
and translated the first lesson in Corderius. It would 
have made a beautiful picture, if that family group 
could have been given to the canvas as they gath- 
ered around the ingle to hear them read that Latin 
lesson. Nor is it yet too late for the limner to give 
it to immortality. They translated their first Latin 
lesson, and received unutterable pleasure from the 
fond approval of their listening and astonished pa- 
rents. There is a rich reward promised to parental 
faithfulness. May Scotland never raise up a gen- 
eration, which shall forget to honour the preceding 
one. 

Their connection with this school continued until 
the middle of July, 1817, during which time they 
read the greater part of Corderius, the whole of Cor- 
nelius Nepos, most of the commentaries of the school 
edition of Caesar, with the first three books of the 
iEneid ; and committed to memory the elements of 
Greek grammar. 

This may be looked on by some as a limited 
course of Latin classics, with which to enter the 
University. It is not, however, the amount of Latin 
which is read, that entitles to scholarship, but the 
mastery which is possessed over the principles of 
the language. He who has critically studied the 
grammar has a key which will enable him to enter 
not only the vestibule, but the labyrinth of the tem- 
ple. It were well if Corderius occupied a higher 
place now in the preparatory studies : — nay , was 



55 

committed to memory by every student. It is the 
colloquial book of humanities. 

During this period the mind of the poet received 
impressions which did much in forming his poetical 
taste. Helvetius and others assert the parity of 
mind, and ascribe the diversities discoverable to 
circumstances. This is an ultimate opinion : yet 
causalities and accidents exert a greater influence 
on intellect than is usually conceded. Pope's " Es- 
say on Man," had fallen into his hands, and became 
a study to him. He read, analyzed, compared, ad- 
mired, and incorporated it into his modes of think- 
ing. It is a philosophical poem, and well fitted to 
be a model. Nor is it to be overlooked that Byron 
was first charmed with poetic numbers by a perusal 
of Pope's Homer. He says, " as a child I first read 
Pope's Homer with a rapture which no subsequent 
work could ever afford." Again he remarks — 
" Pope's faultlessness has been made his reproach." 
Burns was induced " to build the lofty rhyme" from 
a careful reading of Fergusson's poems, and espe- 
cially his " Farmer's Ingle." The following poem 
was written by Pollok, as an exercise at the time, 
and with a view of seeing how nearly he could ap- 
proach to the elegance and terseness of the " Essay 
on Man." It is the earliest of his poetical produc- 
tions which has been preserved. He was then in 
his eighteenth year. 



56 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

A POEM 

ON PHILUS AND PHILIS, TWO LOVERS. 

It is from God we have our blessings here, 

And 'tis our duty to live in his fear. 

Give ear to me, tune up my weak-stringed lyre, 

And with immortal sense my heart inspire, 

To speak aright about this lovely pair, 

Like Celadon and his Amelia fair. 

Philus has features better set than fine ; 
In Philis grace and beauty rare combine. 
****** 

At the first sight each other's heart they gain. 
In amity united they remain, 
***** 

On summer eves, when zephyrs cheer the plain, 
And waft the sailors o'er the flowing main, 
Away strays Philus glad to Philis' bower, 
Who ready waits to meet him at the hour. 
****** 

No — in their converse no such stuff has place, 
But all their talk's of learning, love and grace. 
****** 

But heaven, I hope, will soon the two make one, 
In Hymen's bands their course on earth to run. 
While thou art pleased that they abide below. 
May blessings great of all kinds on them flow. 
When death, the arch-foe, shall at last be sent, 
And bid them yield their life, from Thee but lent, 
Transport them hence to mansions high above, 
Where they'll be blest with an eternal love." 

There are several lines in this early effusion, pos- 
sessing the simplicity of Parnell and Tickell ; and 
the epigrammatic sweetness of Pope and Dryden. 
They are not worthless samples of verse, but buds 



INFLUENCE OF MILTON. 57 

of poesy, requiring only time to have expanded into 
roses. 

It was also during this preliminary school course, 
that he first read Paradise Lost. He found it among 
his uncle's books. His brother David alleges that, 
next to the Bible it became his favourite volume. 
He had often heard of the " Divine Milton," but 
never before had seen any of his works. This dis- 
covery of Paradise Lost was the beginning of a new 
epoch in his mind's history. It was to his intel- 
lectual nature what the finding of the Bible was 
to Luther's moral being. It was a rich and new 
cabinet of ideas to him. His mind launched out 
upon the boundless sea of epic song. Who can tell 
the positive impulse which it gave to his intellect ? 
The action, actors, sentiment and language, were 
all so many separate fields, in which his soul, no 
doubt, luxuriated. From every perusal of his own 
"great song," we are strengthened in our convic-, 
tions, that he thoroughly analyzed Milton's poem. 
He could take down and put up the pedestals, 
columns and architraves in the episodes; imitate 
the cornices of the temple itself; and rebuild with 
the same materials the lofty vestibule. He had ex- 
amined minutely the carved work; and had pic- 
tured in his mind the alcoves for theology, history, 
philosophy, angels, and all the other desiderata of 
this prodigious structure of human thought. 

In the autumn of 1816, his brother John requested 
him to furnish a few lines of poetry to insert in a 
letter to a friend. The following " Lines to Eliza," 



68 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

were written in compliance with this solicitation. 
The fragment is remarkable as a specimen of his 
mind's progress ; and exhibits forcibly the influence 
of Paradise Lost on his studies. 

LINES TO ELIZA. 

WRITTEN AFTER HER TYRANT FATHER HAD SEPARATED HER FOR- 
EVER FROM MEUVAN's ADVERSE FORTUNE. 

O sweetest, fairest of the fairest »ex ? 

Virtue untainted dwells within thy breast. 

Too fair, too virtuous, if such things can be, 

Thou art ; for thou hast wounded me, who heretofore 

Was wounded never, with such darts of love. 

Why wast thou formed 

So fairl If so, why from my eyes not hid 1 

Or rather, why do I not thee possess 1 

Since wanting thee, unhappy — with thee, blest. 

Alas ! by fate, thou'rt to another doomed ; 

To one, who, by some inward pravity. 

Is without happiness, and thou with him ;, 

And I, for want of thee, unhappier. 

Had I of life thy partner been ordained, 
We to such happiness had reached below^ 
That thoughts had been by us of future bliss 
Neglected — our grand business in this world. 
Hence may we learn, that disappointments here, 
And every cross, are blessings — blessings such 
As from this grovelling waste, to heaven our thoughts 
Uplift, where happiness unmingled dwells. 
To heaven conformed be then our mundane track, 
That, at a future day, — transporting thought ! 
Our Judge may be our Advocate : if so 
For evermore, in realms of peaceful love, 
We our abode shall have : where we'll enjoy 
Pleasures, abundant as is their Great Source^ 
,. - Endless as He who lives eternally." 



FINISHES HIS SCHOOL COURSE, 59 

The sentiment, the phrase, and the transparency 
of this production, are equally worthy of notice and 
eulogy. His mind had made a great stride in four 
brief months, if we may judge from the two pieces. 
Nor would we fail to do injustice to these early ef- 
forts, if we passed by in silence their spiritual char- 
acter. His song, in its very incipiency, was wet 
with the dews of his early piety. 

The month of July, 1817, terminated his connec- 
tion with Mr. Fairlies' school, at Fenwick. Nor 
can we evade the impression, that during the six- 
teen months he attended there, he laid up in his 
mind a large amount of that poetic lore, which a 
few years afterwards brought forth such a fruit- 
age. Before entering the University, he spent three 
months more in the private study of the ancient 
classics. But this chapter would be incomplete, if 
we failed to give prominence to the diligence and 
indefatigable perseverance of the poet student. Nor 
did he give his Sabbaths to mere intellectual pur- 
suits. It is on record that he attended regularly, 
during this preparatory course, the public ordi- 
nances of the sanctuary, under the ministry of the 
Rev. John Ritchie, in the town of Kilmarnock. 
Whether, therefore, we look at him as a student, or 
a young Christian ; whether as a son or a brother ; 
whether as a poet or a theologian, we are equally 
pleased with his character. " The steps of a good 
man are ordered by the Lord." 



BOOK II 



HIS LIFE DURING THE UNIVERSITY COURSE. 



"The true philosopher, decided friend 
Of truth and man. Determined foe of all 
Deception, calm, collected, patient, wise. 
And humble, undeceived by outward shape 
Of things, by fashion's revelry uncharmed, 
By honour unbewitched,— he left the chase 
Of vanity, and all the quackeries 
Of life, to fools and heroes, or whoe'er 
Desired them ; and with reason, much despised, 
Ti-aduced yet heavenly reason, to the shade 
Retired." 



CHAPTER I. 



" It became 



The aim of most, and main pursuit to win 
A name — to leave some vestige as they passed, 
That following ages might discern they once 
Had been on earth, and acted something there." 

The University of Glasgow was founded and en- 
dowed by Bishop Turnbull, in the middle of the fif- 
teenth century. In those days Rome wielded the 
sceptre of universal empire. Pope Nicholas the Fifth, 
at the request of King James IL, sent a bull con- 
stituting it a " Studium generale/' or University. 
At the Reformation, a number of causes conspired 
to destroy it, which would have been successful, 
but for the interposition of Queen Mary and the 
city council, who granted large endowments to it. 
More efficient aid was bestowed by James VL, of 
Bible memory ; and a new charter given, which in 
all essential points has continued in force down to 
the present time. 

There are four distinct Faculties : those of arts, 
Theology, Medicine, and Law, including some twenty 
different professors, each of whom, according to law, 
ought to subscribe the Westminster Confession of 
Faith on entrance. Twenty-five or thirty years ago, 



64 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the average number of students was about fifteen 
hundred. Those who attend the classes in arts, 
wear a scarlet gown, made after the fashion of the 
Roman Toga. They are all exempt from the juris- 
diction of the city magistrate, and reside in lodgings 
at their own discretion, in any part of the city. 
Besides the University library, which is very large, 
and entitled to a copy of every new work published 
in Great Britain, there are class libraries, containing 
each a choice collection of books in distinct depart- 
ment. The Hunterian Museum is a rich collection 
of curiosities, anatomical preparations, mineralogy, 
books, and paintings. The lecture-rooms are large 
and commodious. The grounds which lie in the 
rear of the University buildings, are undulating and 
enlivened by a brook meandering through them. 

There is an air of antiquity about the place. The 
several edifices are all constructed of dark brown 
stone ; the older ones covered with the moss and 
tarnish of centuries gone by. Here stands the 
stone bust of Bede, the most venerable Briton of 
the eighth century ; there a huge stone lion, with 
a stone chain, the emblem of British sovereignty, 
guarding as it were, the temples of art and science. 
In the University library, too, is an antique, carved, 
black, oaken chair, with a dark marble seat, and a 
rudely formed minute-glass, raised on the back of 
it, presented by King James the Fourth. Every stu- 
dent sits in this chair while passing his examina- 
tions. It is a relict of " the olden time," and asso- 
ciated with many illustrious names who belonged to 



HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 65 

preceding generations. It is the veritable chair on 
which the reformer, John Knox, and the greatest 
scholar of his age in Scotland, George Buchanan, 
both sat, when passing their literary ordeal. 

The historical associations connected with Glas- 
gow and its University, must have exerted a very 
great influence on the poet's mind. Every student 
can appreciate this observation. The city itself 
dates back to the times of the Roman invasion ; 
and is identified with many of the important inci- 
dents in the kingdom, during the times of the " ill- 
fated Mary" and the Reformation. It was in the 
suburbs, that the battle of Langside was fought be- 
tween the Queen's forces and the Regent Murray. 
Here too met, in 1638, that famous General As- 
sembly of the Kirk of Scotland, which declared 
the whole Episcopal system, introduced by Charles 
First, null and void ; and restored the Presbyterian 
polity. At the restoration of Episcopacy, in the 
times of the Second Charles, many persons there 
Vv^ere put to death for nonconformity, whose tomb- 
stones may yet be seen standing in the streets. 
Nor least in the items of its history, is its early 
trade with the North American colonies. 

The University itself is like an episode in the an- 
nals of Scotland. It cannot be dissociated from the 
Cathedral and Blackfriars' church, and is, therefore, 
covered with the halo of their history. It is a cen- 
tre from which has radiated a prodigious amount of 
influence. Many of the minds educated in it have 
woven laurels that have been hung in high places. 
6* 



86 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

It has sent forth an army of learned men. Many 
of the first ministers of the Gospel, and professors in 
these United States, were instructed there. There 
is, perhaps, no institution in the kingdom, which has 
had a larger number of distinguished men connected 
with it. 

It was in the beginning of November, 1817, that 
Robert Pollok and his brother David entered them- 
selves as students in this ancient and celebrated 
University. At that time several of the classes 
were divided into junior and senior departments. 
This method had many advantages, and was partic- 
ularly beneficial in the classification of students. 
The poet joined the senior class in Latin, or Hu- 
manity, as it is designated there ; and the junior 
division in Greek. 

The literary or sessional year is only about six 
months, yet there is a vast amount of knowledge 
communicated to the classes. The prelection sys- 
tem of education is pursued. The professor ex- 
pounds and illustrates the lesson. Everything 
which can elucidate the subject is set forth ; nor 
is it possible to be a member of any of the classes, 
without gathering together much valuable informa- 
tion. The student is required not only to translate 
freely, but also critically, and according to the 
idiom of the author. Besides this, weekly essays 
and philological exercises are prescribed and rigidly 
required. This method obtains in the studies of the 
first year, as well as through the whole subsequent 
course. At the end of the session, certain premi^ 



TRANSLATIONS. 67 

urns are awarded to the most distinguished mem- 
bers of the class, which are bestowed by the pop- 
ular vote. 

During the first session, Robert is said to have 
discharged the duties of the class with much credit 
to himself He did not obtain a prize, still he stood 
high as a student. Besides meeting the require- 
ments of the class course, he wrote a prose transla- 
tion of Anacreon, an original English ode, and two 
poetical translations from the Latin ; one of them 
was the " Fury," in the twelfth book of the iEneid. 
His feelings were deeply hurt by Professor Walker's 
neglect of these productions. Perhaps it is attribu- 
table to his eccentricities. On the English ode was 
found written in pencil, by the professor, when re- 
turned to the poet, these words : " Some of the 
verses are very spirited." " Why not, then," said 
Robert to his brother, " read them to the class ?" 

It was probably owing to this circumstance that 
he never entered, avowedly, on the arena for class 
honours, although he frequently received them. He 
determined to attain that excellence which would 
give him eclat with the thinking multitude, beyond 
the walls of the University. Nor did he decide in- 
judiciously, for his talents were of a very high 
order, and fitted him for a brilliant position in the 
galaxy of mind. Providence was fitting him for 
large usefulness in the church and the world, and 
not for the narrow circle of the academic halls. 

The following are the stanzas, some of which 



68 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

were so indirectly eulogized by the Professor of 
Humanity. 

ODE TO THE SUN. 

" Hail, thou immortal source of light! 
At thy approach, the gloomy night, 

Ashamed, shrinks from thy ray ; 
The moon, submissive, disappears, 
And all the planets, in their spheres, 

Are lost in whiter day. 

The lion quits the brightening plain, 
And all the nightly-prowling train 

Now fear the blood they 've spilt ; 
Rebellion, riot, wild misrule. 
Night's progeny, of mischief fiill, 

Fly, conscious of their guilt. 

Hark ! how the grateful sons of day 
Extol the penetrating ray 

That banishes their dread : 
In tuneful notes, the feathered throng 
Melodious pour the early song, 

And every leaf is glad. 

The bleating flocks, the lowing kine, 
In rougher notes the concert join, 

As gayly wide they graze ; 
The fields, all waving richly gay, 
The flowers, unfolding to thy ray. 

Though silent ; smile thy praise. 

Now, from his couch upstarts the swain, 
And sprightly hurries o'er the plain, 

To see what night has done : 
With heartfelt joy, his flocks among, 
He joins the universal song — 

' Hail, ever bounteous Sun !' " 



UNIVERSITY SESSIONS. 59. 

The University year being one of only six months, 
the intervening months afford an opportunity to in- 
digent students, to teach, and to all, an occasion for 
reviewing the studies of the session ended ; as well 
as for making preparations for those to be pursued 
in the following term. This plan seems to conjoin 
all that is valuable, both in a public and a private 
system of education. During one half of the year, 
the student has the benefit of rivals in the same 
studies ; of public libraries ; and of a residence from 
home. The remaining half of the year opens up to 
him the sanctifying influences of home ; secures an 
invigorating atmosphere, scenery, and the society 
of persons engaged in the diversified pursuits of 
life. Nor is it easy to affirm how much these 
things have had to do in giving the professional 
men of Scotland such a prominent place in the em- 
pire of knowledge, for the last two centuries. 

The poet returned to Moorhouse to spend the 
summer vacation, as soon as the session closed. 
He made himself useful on the farm, doing the work 
of a man. His physical strength was not equal to 
some of the severer toils ; still he was never behind 
the most energetic. Nor did he lay aside the studies 
of the University : on the contrary, every moment 
of time, that was not occupied in manual labour, 
was devoted to reading English, Latin, and Greek. 
It was, probably, on his arrival at his rural home, 
that he wrote the following ode to " Spring Re- 
turned." 



70 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

SPRING RETURNED. 

Now gloomy winter hides his head, 
With all his ghastly-looking train, 

And Uving nature, from her bed, 

Refreshed and vigorous clothes the plain. 

The genial sun with kinder ray. 
Awakes the slumbers of the year. 

And starting beauties, young and gay, 
The gladdening face of nature cheer. 

The infant leaf, nursed on the tree, 
Foretells the glory of the grove ; 

The flowery graces paint the lea, 
And tempt the youthful step to rove. 

The new-born incense, grateful smell. 
Floats on the softly-sighing gale ; 

The river now, with gentler swell. 

Glides murmuring through the peaceful vale. 

In joy elate, the feathered throng 

Confess the cheering voice of spring; 

With heaven-taught aim they swell the song, 
And nature hstens while they sing. 

The frisking flocks, in guileless play. 
Forget white winter's perilous reign ; 

The herds released, exulting stray. 
And hill and dale unite their strain. 

Man, too, renerved, with joyous eye 
Looks wide on nature's annual birth; 

Sees plenty in her bosom lie, 

And gives his soul to grateful mirth. 

Hail, vigorous spring! child of the skies! 

O'er wide creation swell the lays ! 
On heaven-bound gales the anthem flies. 

And Heaven, delighted, hears the praise ! 



JANE POETRY. 71 

There is a manifest improvement in these verses. 
The poet's ear had become attuned to the cadence 
of song ; and his heart to the finest gradations of 
thought. To one who had spent his previous Hfe 
amid the beauties of natural scenery, the advent of 
spring must have been enrapturing ; after a winter's 
residence in the city. The following lines to Jane, 
are pastoral in their character ; and may have been 
founded on reality. " The Lass of Bailochmyle/' 
one of Burns's most beautiful songs, is brought to our 
mind on reading them. 

JANE. 

On yon green hill that lifts its head 

Scarcely above the village spire, 
Beneath a hawthorn, careless laid, 

I watched the golden day retire. 
And heard the gentle streamlet rove, 
And gloaming sing to welcome love. 

The zephyr woke from downy sleep, 

And from its earth-refreshing wing. 
Shook balmy dews, that nightly weep 

Upon the flowery breast of spring ; 
The skylark sung her vesper hymn, 
And hamlet bell toU'd resting time. 

Sweet was the sound to labor's ears ! 

His Ufted axe the woodman dropp'd ; 
The ploughman, glad, unyoked his steers, 

His love-plight flower the shepherd cropp'd ; 
And dogs and men with joyous din, 
Slow to the village gathered in. 

The sentinel-sheep watched on the moor. 
And heaven's bright eyes, one after one, 



72 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Looked forth, and on her nightly tour, 

Cinctured with clouds, the moon rode on, 
And over lake, and wood, and height. 
Threw her mild and shadowy light. 

And now, the music of the rill 

Joined concert with the pibroch's swell, 

That floated far o'er rock and hill. 
Where ever-listening echoes dwell, 

And on the dewy moonlit green 

The village youths and maids were seen. 

From care and daily toil set free, 
In sooth it was a dainty throng ; 

With joke, and mirth, and dance, and glee, 
And guileless love, and artless song ; 

Even crazy age young feats would try, 

And boyhood raised the joyous cry. 

Yet one among this merry race. 

Seemed wishful of a place to mourn ; 

The beam that trembled on her face. 
Displayed a cheek with sorrow worn ; 

Her hair, uncombed, hung on the breeze ; 

Her robes betrayed no art to please. 

She heeded not the lover's tale 
That softly sighed to win her ear. 

And oft her downcast eye would fail, 
And shady locks, to hide the tear ; 

And oft her long deep heavy sigh 

Responded to the laugh of joy. 

I saw her slowly steal away, 

And leave, unseen, the mirthful throng; 
And, where a rivulet's waters play. 

Sadly she strayed and sighed along; 
And still she plucked the flowery band. 
And held them in her snowy hand. 

Whatever flowerets nature wild 
Nurses unbid— the daisy fair, 



THE WEEPING MAID. t3 

The violet meek, the primrose mild, 

And thyme that scents the desert air, 
She pulled ; and where the churchyard gray- 
Looks on the moon, she held her way. 

Silent and sad the place of graves 

She sought : pale slept the starry light 
On the long grass, that kindly waves 

O'er humble tombs, and sighs to night ; 
And, from the old religious 3'ews, 
Dropped on the maid the weeping dews. 

A hillock rose beneath their shade ; 

And thither Jane well knew the way ; 
Soft from her hand the flowers she laid. 

And strewed them where her Henry lay. 
Henry who oft had wiped her tear, 
Pressed to his heart, and called her dear. 

I heard her once repeat his name ; 

" Henry !" she said with deep, deep sigh, 
And down her cheek a teai'-drop came. 

Too pure for man's unhallowed eye ; 
An angel caught it, offering meet ! 
And bore it to the Mercy-seat. 

There is a spirit of devotion running through all 
his poetry. Besides, he utters his numbers as one 
who had looked into the mysteries of love ; as well 
as into the shifting phases of external nature. " The 
Weeping Maid/' is another garland to his harp. 



THE WEEPING MAID. 

Evening, with thy shadows dun, 
Come and veil the gaudy sun ; 
From the idle gaze of day 
Wrap me in thy mantle gray : 
7 



74 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Mirth delights in Morning's shine; 
I have tears to mix with thine, 
Tears a parent must not see : 

let me then, sad Evening, weep with thee ! 

I love thy melancholy eye, 
Saddening earth, and saddening sky ; 
And the latest lingering beam, 
Dying on the mournful stream, 
O'er the pebbled shallow creeping j 
And the dews forever weeping ; 
And the shadows meeting fast ; 
And darkening wood, and moan of nighted blast- 

Of nighted blasts, by Ayr, that moan 

While I walk his banks alone, 

Asking every star above. 

What wrong 'tis for a maid to lovet 

Is there aught beneath the sun 

Fitter than to love the one 

Who returns my fondest sigh, 

Who for me would live or die ? 

Father ! did I make my heart 1 

Could I turn its love apart 

From the youth, whose angel look 

All my ravished senses took 1 

Is it that I follow fate, 

1 weep alone, and bear a parent's hate 1 

Leaping from the mountain's side, 
Down the slope the streamlets gUde, 
Freely minghng, as they flow 
Through the glowing vales below. 
Freely does the ivy rest 
On the bough that suits it best. 
Happy lark ! that sings all day 
Notes forever sweet and gay -^ 

Happy that, when evening's come, 
It descendeth to its home ; 



PATERNAL LIBRARY. 75 

To the bosom of its bride, 
By the grassy hillock side ! 
Happy nature's children all, 
Listening still to nature's call; 
Ne'er a father's wrath to prove, 
Like me, because I cannot change my love 

Evening, with thy weeping dews, 
And with every mournful muse. 
Come, and in thy mantle gray 
Wrap me from the gaze of day ; 
Till my soul, from thraldom free, 
Gain the land of liberty ; 
Where no parent's heart is hard, 
Where no virgin's love is marr'd ; 
Where no persecuted maid 
Seeks the night her tears to shade ; 
Where, before the Eternal's face, 
Freely souls that love embrace ; 
All their native rights regained, 
Every holy wish obtained ; 
Till my Maker set me free, 
O let me still, sad Evening, weep with thee ! 



■It 



CHAPTER 11. 

" Might he not walk through Fancy's airy halls 1 
Might he not History's ample page survey'? 

. Might he not, finally, explore the depths 
Of mental, moral, natural, divine]" 

Mr. Pollok returned to the University in Octo- 
ber, 1818, and entered the senior division of the 
Greek class. This was the only one which he reg- 
ularly attended during this second session. He had 
determined to penetrate into the mysteries of the 
Greek tongue. Nothing short of a profound knowl- 
edge of its dialects, accents, Homeric digamma, 
particles and metres, came up to his standard. It 
would have required years to have realized such a 
scheme ; still it was well to aim at much. Camp- 
bell, " The Bard of Hope," had given a stimulus to 
the study of Greek literature in the University. 
Twenty years before he graduated w^ith a reputa- 
tion for Greek scholarship, which no young man 
before nor since had enjoyed. His translation of 
" The Clouds" of Aristophanes was pronounced as 
unique among college exercises. Nor is there any- 
thing which we have seen equal to his translations 
from the Greek of Alcman, Tyrtseus, and Euripides ; 
all which were originally written as class exercises. 



STUDIES ORATORY. 77 

It is impossible to state what positive attainments 
Mr. Pollok made in Greek during that session : still, 
from his subsequent fondness of the language, as 
well as from his attention to it, on all opportune oc- 
casions, it is not to be doubted but that he made 
suitable progress. Who can estimate the influence 
of Campbell's Greek scholarship and poetical fame 
on his mind during that period ? " The Choice of 
Paris," " The Dirge of Wallace," the elegy, " Love 
a'nd Madness," and even the greater part of "The 
Pleasures of Hope," were written at the Univer- 
sity ; and were consequently considered as laurels 
peculiarly belonging to it. Many a student who 
came after Pollok, felt the witchery of Campbell's 
fame ; and, at the contemplation of his early suc- 
cess, had longings after immortality. 

About this time, James Sheridan Knowles, the 
celebrated author of "Virginia," "William Tell," 
(fee, had public classes in the city for the study of 
oratory. ^ Mr. Pollok availed himself of his instruc- 
tions during this session. Here again was a new 
field of thought opened for him. The great masters 
of eloquence were held up before him. The ora- 
tions of Demosthenes and Cicero were recited. 
The speeches of Pitt, Fox, Sheridan, Grattan, and 
Patrick Henry, were re-delivered. The peculiari- 
ties of these wonderful minds laid open. Nor can 
any man tell what power the living voice and the 
beaming eye of such a preceptor exerted on such a 
mind as Pollok's. Indeed, the man who could write 
" William Tell" and " Virginia," must have been 
7* 



78 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

capable of inspiring minds less gifted than that of 
the author of " The Course of Time." 

It was during the Christmas holidays of this sec- 
ond session, which he spent at home, that he wrote 
the following ode : — 

ODE TO MOORHOUSE, 

Far from the giddy cheerless crowd, 

That press the street, thoughtless and loud, 

In ancient majesty arrrayed, 

Time-worn Moorhouse, thou stand' st displayed. 

Thy walls irregular could tell, 

At Bannockburn what numbers fell ; 

How Bruce, with strong resistless hand, 

From proud oppression saved his land: 

When popes and kings in hellish rage, 

By persecution thinned the age, 

Thy walls a faithful shelter proved 

To those that God and virtue loved. 

Oft in the silent midnight hour — 

When listening heaven's Almighty Power, 

With ear inclined, delighted hears 

The good man's prayer, and wipes his tears — 

Within thy walls assembled saints 

Praised Him who wearies not nor faints ; 

Praised Him who sheathed the bloody sword. 

And, undisturbed, his name adored; 

And angels joined the ascending song, 

Wafting it to the eternal throng. 

The lofty trees that by thee grow, 
A supplicating look bestow 
On me, a stripling, easy laid 
Within their hospitable shade ; 
And, sighing, say, " The kindly hand 
That gave us birth in this blest land. 
Centuries ago, lies in the dust ; 



ODE TO MOORHOUSE. 79. 

Us gently prune with feeling hand, 
Nor to destroy us give command. 
Thy fathers, now above the sky, 
Watched o'er us with paternal eye ; 
O, to our age some reverence yield ! 
Nor envy us this httle field." 

Around, untainted zephyrs blow ; 

And purling rills unfailing flow, 

And Earn's pure stream with gentle waves, 

Uceasingly thy border laves. 

The smiling herds that graze thy plain, 

Of drink or pasture ne'er complain ; 

The wintry food thy meadows yield, 

Secured ere Boreas beats the field ; 

Thy joyful, waving, yellow plains. 

Ne'er baulk the labour of the swains. 

O happy dome ! placed far remote 
From city broils and treason's plot ; 
The city smoke ne'er reach'd thy plain, 
Which suffocates the motley train ; 
Far from the crimes that rage unnamed, 
From which the day retires ashamed ; 
Far from the breezes fraught with death. 
Far from contagion's mortal breath ; 
Happy the swains who in thee live, 
Who read their Bibles and believe. 
Who worship God with heart and mind, 
And to his will are aye resigned ! 

This ode is not without merit. It is didactic in 
its character, and has several lines of much beauty 
and strength. It is a truthful song of the poet's 
home. The first stanza is full of historical remi- 
niscences. The second immortalizes those trees, 
which he afterwards honoured with a niche in 
" The Course of Time." The third stanza is a 



80 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

tribute to the scenery surrounding Moorhouse, and 
to the flocks which pasture on the hills and dales. 
In the closing verse, there is a happy allusion to the 
superiority of rural life over the city. As a whole, 
the poet has shown not only good taste in the dis- 
tribution of the ode, but considerable poetical skill 
in its construction and execution. It has a classical 
likeness, and reminds the reader in several lines of 
Horace. In a word, it is a leaf of song which will 
never wither. 

At the close of the second session in April, he re- 
turned to Moorhouse, and spent again the summer 
vacation, but under different circumstances from 
that of the former one. Arrangements were made, 
by which he was exempted from all agricultural 
cares and employments. The consequence was, 
that he devoted his entire time to reading, writing, 
and meditation. Nor was it a small portion of it 
which he gave to reflection. Often he exclaimed, as 
he gazed upon the beautiful and variegated scenery 
around — that which God has created and preserved 
should be studied and admired by man. 

The great business, however, of the vacation, was 
to read those works which would enable him to en- 
ter the logic class in the fall, with advantage and 
interest. Nor was this an easy task, because the 
course was very comprehensive, including not only 
the ancient logic, all that is known about it prior to 
the days of Aristotle, down to the time of Bacon ; but 
also the modern logic and the belles-lettres. It was 
necessary for him to read the analytics of the Stagy- 



STUDIES THE POET?. ' 81 

rite, and study the scholastic philosophy, which was 
a fantastic superstructure, erected on the ancient 
dialectics. This he was partially enabled to accom- 
plish, from his access to the University library. 
The student who enters the logic class a novice in 
the science, will feel himself a mere tyro, after the 
session closes. The prelections of the professor, 
while succinct and didactic, cannot be appreciated 
by one who has not anticipated the subject. 

But apart from the reading preparatory for the 
purely logic department, he entered on a critical 
examination of the English poets, with a view to 
the elucidation of the belles-lettres. From a note- 
book found among his papers, it appears that he had 
grappled in thought with Shakspeare, Milton, Pope, 
Johnson, Ossian, Beattie, and Burns. Instead of 
confining himself to the disquisitions of D'Alembert, 
Gerard, Blair, Campbell, Hume and others, he ap- 
proached and drank at the very head waters. He 
explored and surveyed for himself He no doubt 
plucked the fairest roses out of their garlands ; ex- 
tracted the crystalline dew-drops from their buds ; 
put his hand upon the pulsations of their divinest 
thoughts ; and unravelled, thread by thread, the 
silken fringes of their rich and graphic phrases. 
He must have taken prodigious liberties with these 
canonized bards ; nay, hazarded to look into the 
very laboratory of their being, as they felt and acted 
in the rapturous moments of their inspiration. His 
reading must have been like the acts of an alchemist. 

There were days during the summer which the 



82 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

student gave to recreation and observation. One 
of his favourite haunts was Lochgoin, a place some 
four miles south of Moorhouse, and famous as a re- 
treat for the Covenanters, during the persecution 
from 1660 to 1688. The hill-top on which the 
farm-house stands, is green the greater part of the 
year, and commands an extensive prospect over the 
surrounding mosses. The present proprietor is of 
Huguenot ancestry ; the family has occupied it from 
father to son for several centuries. Thomas Howie, 
the tenant in Pollok's times, was the son of John 
Howie, the compiler of the " Scots' Worthies," a 
book second only in popularity in Scotland to Bun- 
yan's Pilgrim's Progress. In 1828, the writer of this 
biography visited Lochgoin in company with Dr. 
Dobson of Eaglesham. We were shown the drum 
and flag which were used by the friends of the Kirk, 
at " Bothwell Brig," with other sacred memorials of 
that epoch. The old observatory, formed of turf 
cut out of the moss, was yet in a good state of preser- 
vation. Peden, Cameron, and others, *' of whom the 
world was not worthy," often stood on it, and looked 
out for the stealthy approach of the foe. Twelve 
times during the twenty-eight years of blood, was 
Lochgoin searched for nonconformists, but in vain ; 
the God of the covenant anticipated the movements, 
and hid his holy ones until the storm had past. Dr. 
Dobson took the blue silk flag, ascended the antique, 
rude observatory, and waved it wide upon the sum- 
mer breeze. It called up in vivid array before us, 
the history of those bloody and eventful times. It 



LOCHGOIN. 83 

was not apparently the worse of a hundred and fifty 
years of peace. It looked as if it had just been 
folded up after the disastrous battle. Nor shall I 
ever forget the magic inscription on it, in white let- 
ters, " Jehovah Tzid-kenue, the Lord our Righteous- 
ness." Has not the colour of this flag something to 
do with the adage — " True blue Presbyterianism ?" 

It is not strange that the poet should have loved 
to visit this lonely yet memorable place. The pros- 
pect from it is very extended, taking in much of the 
territory around, which has been consecrated and 
ennobled by the blood and sufferings of the heroic 
martyrs. It is near to the very battle-ground of 
Drumclog. There is also a large collection of pam- 
phlets and sermons, preserved in the family library, 
relating to the troubles in Scotland, Besides all 
this, there is a vast amount of traditionary story 
preserved- He who spends a day at Lochgoin, will 
come down to the valley, like one who has been 
holding communion with ancient times, and had a 
nearer approach to the covenant-keeping God. I 
remember with the distinctness of the present, that 
the memory of the author of " The Course of Time" 
was precious to the whole Howie family. 

The following poetical production is said to be 
Mr. Pollok's second effort at blank verse. It is en- 
titled— 

THE DISTRESSED CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. 

My soul is ill at ease, my thoughts disorder, 

Tortured with pain, convulsed with doubt and passion. 



84 LIFE OF rOl.LOK. 

As when against a hapless bark adrift 

Billows tremendous dash, and tempest rolls 

The fury of conflicting elements, 

Baffled in every plan, and stupified, 

The seaman's hardy soul sinks careless down, 

And heedless waits the ya\^ing desolation ; 

So, 'mid the evils which beset my soul, 

She flounces on, unheedful of her fate. 

And must I let her thus be tossed and scourged 

By the dread billows of this nether world 1 

Is it like being immortal to be foiled, 

To be undone, by things ephemeral 1 

It must not be. What ! is the contest vain ? 

A trifle the reward of victory 1 

No, no, my soul ! life and eternal joy, 

A crown of glory, an unfading crown, 

Imparted from the grandeur infinite 

Of glory uncreated, will be thine, 

If in the path of duty thou abide. 

That God, who into being spoke the world, 

And still, with arm omnipotent, maintains 

The revolution vast of varied things, 

Hath sworn by his eternal Godhead high. 

That he who perseveres in righteousness, 

Who fights the fight of faith, and turns not back, 

Shall immortality and honour gain. 

Unseen, unheard, unthought-of happiness ! 

Bliss which Jehovah's goodness has prepared ! 

Rise, rise, my soul ; see yonder blest abode : 

Behold the beatific vision bright, 

And say how ill it fits thee e'er to fret, 

Or be dismayed, at time's most horrid frown. 

Put on the Christian armour, bravely fight 

The hosts of earth and hell ; fear not their strength, 

Power, wisdom infinite, are on thy side. 

The mighty arm that clave Arabia's gulf, 

Whelmed Egypt's guilty host infuriate, 

Uplifted, fights for thee. Away, away, 

Ye bugbears that surround my soul : earth, death, 

And hell, are foiled by Him in whom resides 



THE T^OGTC CLASS. 85 

All strength; eternal victory is thine, 
Immortal life, and everlasting bliss ! 

This production is worthy of the Christian poet. 
The fundamental doctrines of the Gospel are brought 
clearly to view in it. The thoughts suggested are 
just such as the distressed Christian ought to medi- 
tate on. Nor is the poetical structure rude or in- 
artistic. It is true that it lacks the finish and flow 
of much of " The Course of Time," yet it contains 
the germs of well-constructed blank verse. The 
verbal critic might object to the use of the adjec- 
tives, " careless," and " heedless," instead of their ad- 
verbs ; but Milton's usage has established canons on 
this point, which render all such criticisms futile and 
nugatory. 

In November, 1819, he entered the logic class. 
In the prior parts of his University course, his mind 
had been strictly confined to Latin and Greek phi- 
lology. Now a new region of investigation courted 
his attention. One, too, of a highly philosophical 
character. It was nothing short of the considera- 
tion of the faculties of the mind and their relations 
to human language. The whole field of ancient 
and modern literature was necessarily explored, and 
the laws of ratiocination minutely analyzed. The 
syllogism was examined and expounded. Bacon, 
too, and his Organon, was brought to view ; and 
the superiority of Induction over the Syllogism for- 
cibly inculcated. 

The rhetoric department of the logic course, was 
one of intense interest to the poet. This was his 

8 



86 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

favourite field of thought ; and the one in which his 
vigorous imagination revelled and luxuriated. The 
large number of highly intelligent students which 
were members of the class that session, gave addi- 
tional and unusual interest to the exercises. It was 
there that the short-lived, yet gifted and learned 
William Friend Durant, shone so brilliantly, and 
earned such laurels. 

St. Ange Simeon, had private classes of French 
during that period, in the city. Mr. Pollok at- 
tended one of these daily for two months and 
made rapid progress in the acquisition of the lan- 
guage ; nay, distinguished himself exceedingly, not 
only in his facility at translation, but in the crit- 
ical knowledge of its structure and idiom. He was 
also a member of two debating societies, one of 
them being strictly confined to members of the logic 
class. Nor was this all that he sought to accom- 
plish during the session. He was a private student 
in that division of the Greek class, in which Profes- 
sor Young gave critical readings and criticisms of 
the Greek language. There was a note-book found 
among his manuscripts, in which he had entered 
many of the most valuable of the criticisms, and which 
had the following quaint and amusing title : " A few 
of the curiosities and nice discoveries of the won- 
derful man, even the man Professor Young ; for the 
session of 1819, 1820." 

The following letter was written to his cousin 
and early associate, Robert Pollok, about the mid- 



A LETTER. 87 

die of the session. It is the first of his letters which 
has been preserved. 

" Glasgow, Dec. 15, 1819. 
*< My dear friend, 

" I received a parcel this morning from Mr. John Campbell, in 
which was a letter directed to yourself, which I hereby send you. 

" The streets of Glasgow are overlaid with ice : therefore if you 
intend to come to town before thaw, you had better have yourself 
frosted. 

" I would write you a long letter if Time, that hurrying chiel, 
would permit. But he seems to have got a new feather in his 
wing ; and, if I am not prepared to profess Greek against to- 
morrow at two o'clock ; if I am not prepared to be president in the 
Logic society, first Saturday, and orator in another, early next 
week ; and do not, in the interim, write many logical essays, and 
read much Latin and Greek — if I do not perform all these things 
before Thursday, next week, he says with his usual determination, 
that I must be left behind. I shall try, however, to lop off some of 
his extreme feathers ; and that, you know, can be done onl}?^ by 
exertion. 

*' If the weather be thus bitter cold, I am not sure if I may be at 
Moorhouse on the approaching holida3's. I hope, therefore, that 
you will gather all the news of that circle with which you are con- 
nected, and send them to me. 

" Write to me soon. Remember me kindly to all your friends 
and mine about you, and especially to my dear uncle your father. 
Accept my best respects, and believe me to be, yours inviolably, 

"R. POLLOK," 

At the close of the session in April, 1820, Mr. 
Pollok was awarded a prize by the vote of his fel- 
low-students, for eminent attainments in logic and 
rhetoric. Nor was it a small honour to receive 
such a tribute, where hundreds of accomplished 
scholars were competitors. He was indefatiga- 
ble in his studies ; wrote, during the session of six 



88 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

months, twenty-four essays, which on an average 
extended to eight quarto pages : and read several 
elaborate works, among which were "Johnson's 
Lives of the Poets/' 

It does not appear that he ever entertained the 
idea that knowledge was attainable without perse- 
verance and untiring study. On the contrary, every 
act of his hfe shows that he was a devoted believer 
in the attainableness of literary treasures by mental 
effort. If every student of his day had gathered 
ideas with the same soHcitude, how much more glo- 
rious would the empire of thought now be. It is 
angel-like to go out by the ocean of knowledge, and 
gather up the golden pebbles of wisdom, which lie 
thick upon it, as stars in the milky way. 



CHAPTER III. 

" And further taught that in the soul alone, 
The thinking, reasonable, willing soul, 
God i)laced the total excellence of man ; 
And meant him evermore to seek it there." 

At the close of the Logic session, Mr. Pollok's 
health was slightly impaired. Nor is this surprising 
when we take into consideration the great thoughts 
which were struggling for a lodgment in his soul, 
and the efforts he was making to stand upon the 
high places of literature. 

The following letter which he wrote to his brother 
David a few weeks after his return to the home of 
his childhood, will give the best and truest por- 
traiture of his inward self at the time. 

" Moorhouse, June 13, 1821. 
"DfiAR Brother, 

" Accompanying this are a few lines " on anger." I would have 
sent you some more poetry which I have occasionally put together, 
but I have no paper. 

•' I have been studying hard this some time, for I found raiiibling 
idle did no good to my health. I have been considerably worse 
since the commencement of May. My spirits have been for the 
last two weeks unusually dull. The present state of my body and 
the influence which it has on my mind, renders my sleep short and 
precarious. My situation is, indeed, not agreeable. To be driving 
at literature without adequate assistance, is a hard task : but to be 
without adequate assistance and stimulating health, is harder still. 
8* 



90 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

When I look to the scholar's unprotected fate, and think that even at 
this season of the year, my health is rather retrograde, the prospect 
is indeed gloomy. I have not spoken of the state of my iiealth to 
any person here ; but the lowness of my spirits is no doubt visible- 
My constitution is yet strong, and far from being sickly. Dr. Reid, 
the last time I saw him, said there w^as no danger whatever ; and 
recommended residing a month or two on Arran, and taking occa- 
sional sails. The rarity of the air in that quarter, would probably 
have a good effect on the mind, and the sea bathing, which I never 
tried, might have an influence of some kind on the body. But to go 
there and be comfortable requires money, and you know that is not 
to be found. Were I even to get it here, I know so well their ina- 
bility to assist me, that every shilUng I spend tortures my soul. I 
do not write this to hurt your feelings, but it gives me some pleasure 
to communicate my own feelings to you ; and at the same time to 
have your advice in return, will afford me great satisfaction. 

" R. PoLLOK." 

He made a profession of religion some two weeks 
after the date of this letter, in the Secession church 
at Eaglesham, under the pastoral care of the Rev. 
James Dickson. There are no memorials extant, 
which throw any light on the reasons and motives 
that led him to perform this act of personal conse- 
cration. There can be little doubt, however, but 
that he had experienced a change of heart years 
prior, nor can any mortal unfold to us the workings 
of his mind during the intervening period. Every- 
thing from his pen is coloured with piety. It may be 
that the illness of which he writes to his brother, 
was more spiritual than physical. Experience 
abundantly proves that many a youth has been sick 
at heart, from a sense of his sins, whose malady has 
been mistaken, even by pious parents and friends. 
It is plain that God was fitting the young scholar for 



VISIT TO DUBLIN. 91 

the proper study of philosophy ; and he was privi- 
leged in being permitted to join the sacramental 
host of the visible church, while deeply occupied 
with his literary course. 

Instead of taking an excursion to the island of 
Arran, as proposed in the preceding letter, he visited 
Dublin, and remained in and about that metropolis 
for two weeks. He was accompanied by his young 
friend Mr. Andrew Bryson, who, like himself, was 
called early away to the spirit world. He was 
decidedly benefited by his tour. Not only was his 
body braced, but his mind strengthened, and enabled 
to look over the gulf of despondency. In a few 
days after his return, he sent to a friend the follow- 
ing beautiful and highly- wrought epistle, as a speci- 
men of descriptive composition : — 

'' Moorkouse, August 18, 1820. 

" Dear friend, one moment quit the classic page, 
The modern theorist, and the ancient sage, 
With all the depths of philosophic lore, 
Through which your eye has long been taught to pore. 
A brighter theme, the muse devoid of fear. 
Presses upon your unaccustomed ear. 
The theme, Maria. — Who will not attend 
When all the muses unemployed descend 1 
For when the virtuous fair our theme compose. 
The muses listen though we speak in prose, 

" My dear Friend, — Travelling lately in the West of Scotland, I 
called at the house of a young lady with whom I have had some 
little acquaintance since the year 1815. She is the daughter of a 
reputable farmer, and during the live years last, past, has been a 
successful scholar in the various branches of female education 
which render the sex more amiable and useful, without making 



92 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

them vain and ostentatious Disgusted at the inurbaijity of man- 
ners which prevailed around her, this young lady, whom we shall 
call Maria, at an early age, aspired at a habit of Ufe which might 
render her more interesting to the polite and intelligent ; and what 
she aspired at she has attained. 

" As I have observed with delight this tender plant, growing up t» 
maturity in female accomplishments, amidst circumstances rather 
unfavourable — amidst circumstances which have retained many of 
Maria's equals, in point of birth, known only by ignorance and 
shameless rudeness, permit me to give you a short sketch of her 
character. Those ought to be interesting to all, who, by virtuous 
means, make themselves more amiable and more useful than the 
other members of that society to which they originally belonged. It 
WEis attention to those that civilized mankind ; and it is still by imi- 
tating those useful individuals, that society is carried from one de- 
gree of improvement to another. 

" Maria's form is handsome, and might measure something about 
middle size. Her hair is black, and sports in luxuriant ringlets on 
a forehead and neck of a polish and whiteness which arrest the 
eye of the most careless beholder. Her eyes are blue, and are met 
with ease and pleasure, always full of the goodness of her heart. 
Maria's colour is not high, nor is she fashionably pale : it is a colour pe- 
culiar to those who are neither exposed to the weather nor ingulfed in 
dissipation ; the whole air of her countenance is attractive and easy. 
Goodness will gaze on her with freedom and delight ; wickedness 
will withdraw its eye ashamed and reproved. Such is a faint de- 
scription of what must strike every one when Maria is the object 
of ocular contemplation. 

" But exterior accomplishments are not all Maria's endowments. 
Indeed, that which gives her countenance the most fascinating 
charm, is the effect of a mind animating every feature, without 
compulsion or restraint. Knowing well that modesty, and some 
degree of diffidence, are indispensable in those of the sex who would 
please, Maria is very different from that class of females who have 
spoken all their days without putting themselves to the trouble of 
thinking. When Maria speaks, all her hearers are attentive, be- 
cause she thinks before she speaks. Her manners are completely 
free from rudeness ; nor have they dwindled into mere ceremony. 
Her town's education has not had the baleful effect of making her, like 
too many, more accomplished and more stupid. She possesses the 



MARIA. 93 

sensibility and guilelessness of the country maid, without her awk- 
wardness or ignorance ; and the refinement and activity of the 
town's lady, without her whimsicalness or deception. She pleases 
without showing too much anxiety to please : always cheerful, but 
never given to boisterous mirth ; because it is inconsistent with her 
delicacy of feeling. In a word, all her demeanour seems rather to be 
produced by Christian goodness than hammered on the anvil of fash- 
ion. Hers is that • sanctity of manners' which is the offspring of ' un- 
affected goodness.' Yes, religion has shed its benignant influences 
on her soul. Ik is here that she is irresistibly amiable. It is this, 
speaking in her countenance, which charms and animates the good; 
which abashes and reproves the bad. Maria's tongue is not bridled 
by the trammels of fashion, but by that piety which is not ' vain.' 
' She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the 
law of kindness.' 

"If heaven should ever bless Maria with a congenial partner of 
life, her heart will beat responsive to his every feeling : he will ' be 
known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.' 
Then will it be said of her, ' Many daughters have done virtuously, 
but thou excellest them all,' for ' a woman that feareth the Lord, she 
shall be praised.' 

" You have, no doubt, noticed that, in this short sketch of Maria's 
character, I have not mentioned a single fault. Hear my reason : 
I have found none. You are not, however, to imagine from this, 
that I think her perfect, or that the description given of her is the 
hyperbolical ebullition of a blind passion. Unable to call myself 
by the tender name of her friend, I am only an acquaintance. A 
more intimate connection might discover some faults ; but no con- 
nection could reasonably discover faults which would not be lost 
almost sooner than seen, in that blaze of goodness, which pervades 
every part of her character. As the spots which are said to exist in 
the sun are lost in the bright effulgence of his beams ; so Maria's 
faults, if she have any, are completely hidden in the dispreading lux- 
uriance of her goodness ; and as the spots in the sun are no obstruc- 
tion to his cheering, vivifying, and day-making influences on the 
earth ; so Maria's faults can be no hindrance to her pleasing, ani- 
mating, and soul-brightening influences on those around her. 

" How delightful is it to see youth and beauty and goodness com- 
bined in the same female! What an irresistible power over man- 
kind have justice and religion, when enforced by so winning an 



94 ^ LIFE OF POLLOK. 

admonisher ! Were there sufficient Marias in the world, what 
respect were due to the female character ! How much would the 
eternal interests of mankind be promoted ! How much more ra- 
tional and satisfactory were the pleasures pursued in the world! 
Then were Lemuel's description of a good wife applicable ; then 
were domestic jarring at an end; then might it be universally said, 
* He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing.' 

" With what pleasure will the celestial blessed hover around Ma- 
ria's peaceful abode ; mark her strengthening every virtuous princi- 
ple, from the oracles of truth ; see her imbuing every youthful mind 
about her with the sanctity of her own ; and behold her bowing un- 
seen by the world, and pouring out her soul, in all the sweetness of 
the purest devotion, to her Creator and Redeemer ! With what 
satisfaction and delight will her guardian angel watch over every 
emotion of her soul ; guard her against every temptation ; and fill 
her mind, by heavenly commission, with the raptures felt above ! 
At every new conquest of her soul over the innate corruption of her 
heart; at every new development of virtue in her mind ; at the ter- 
mination of the duties of her every day, how will these watching 
spirits vie in holy ardour, with one another, to be the messengers 
of the happy tidings to the celestial courts! Nay, with what infi- 
nite delight will Jehovah, the creator of the ends of the earth, look 
down on this tender offspring of his hands ! With early piety — 
with the humble and contrite in heart, the Lord delights to dwell. 

" R. PoLLOK." 

There is a beauty in the style, plan and discussion 
of Maria's character, which is not surpassed by any- 
thing of the kind which we have seen in the whole 
range of English literature. Nor is it possible for 
any lady to read it, without feeling an irresistible im- 
pulse to conform herself to the high mental portrai- 
ture sketched. It is worthy of circulation in a tract 
form ; and is proper for the study of every school 
girl. Whether therefore we consider it a mere 
effort at good writing, or a picture of his heart's 
*' love," it is a peerless production. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY CLASS. 95 

Professor Jardine, of the Logic class, had an- 
nounced at the close of the session a subject to be 
written on, during the vacation, as a prize exercise. 
The poet became a competitor for it, and was suc- 
cessful. It was an " Essay on the External Senses, 
and the means of improving them." It is too long 
for insertion here, covering no less than one hundred 
and four quarto pages of manuscript. Besides this 
elaborate essay, he wrote several pieces of poetry ; 
read extensively, made extracts, and entered a regis- 
try of his thoughts on the various subjects, in a note- 
book, to the voluminous expansion of forty closely 
written octavo pages. Nor was this all — he appears 
also to have made large preparation for the Moral 
Philosophy Class, the next in order in the Univer- 
sity curriculum. 

The Moral Philosophy class is considered in Scot- 
land the most important in the literary course. It 
is, in it, that the great doctrines concerning the 
Senses, Ideas, Reason, Instinct, Conception, Mem- 
ory, Belief, Necessity, the Will, the Passions, Affec- 
tions, Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul, 
Causes of Error, Virtue, Providence, Motives and 
Duty are succinctly discussed. The various theo- 
ries about the mind which have been held in an- 
cient and modern times are all considered. The 
doctrines of Kant, Helvetius, Malbranche, Priestley, 
Hutchison, Hume, Reid, Stewart, Brown and others, 
are all scrutinized and compared. The exquisite 
ability, too, with which Professor Mylne elucidated 
and explored the whole vast field of metaphysics 



96 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and ethics, gave additional charms to the course. 
He was a powerful metaphysician, and possessed 
uncommon powers of analysis. Many of his views 
were new and original. " The analysis of the Phe- 
nomena of the Human Mind," published in London 
in 1829, by James Mill, Esqr., the author of the His- 
tory of British India, contains many of his peculiar 
doctrines in metaphysics. Professor Ferrie, of Bel- 
fast College, has also carried out many of them in 
his lectures to his classes, with great ability. Nor 
is Moral Philosophy a less engrossing subject now 
in the Universities of Scotland. Abercrombie, Wil- 
son, Dewer, Chalmers and Hamilton, have been 
worthy to wear the mantle of their predecessors. 

The poet entered this class in November, 1820, 
with his mind well furnished for its duties. He was 
deeply enamoured, from the first lecture, with the 
professor and the science. He remarked to his 
brother David on one occasion, " Till I heard Mr. 
Mylne lecture, I never thought of calling in question 
the opinion of an author. If it differed from mine, 
I thought it must be right, and my own wrong. But 
in Mr. Mylne's class I was set free, forever, from 
the trammels of book authority ; I lost all deference 
to authors, and opinions, and names ; and learned 
not only to think and decide for myself, but to test 
severely my own opinions." Besides a daily lecture 
there were examinations in it, and a weekly essay 
required from every student. Mr. Pollok not only 
discharged assiduously the whole prescribed duties, 
but also wrote a large number of voluntary essays, 



DEATH OF YOUNG. 97 

which he. submitted to the professor. During the 
session he furnished essays sufficient to constitute a 
large vokime ; two of them were in verse ; and at 
the close of it was awarded a prize, by the vote of 
the class. One of the successful candidates for 
prizes was Mr. Durant, of whom I have already 
spoken ; and whose memoirs were republished in 
this country in 1S23. 

The poet had entered himself again a private 
student, at the commencement of the session in the 
Greek class ; and wrote in competition for a prize, 
a translation in verse of the first chorus of Sopho- 
cles ; but the professor was called suddenly away, 
to give an account of himself to the Judge of all the 
earth. He went into his bath, and was found a few 
minutes afterwards by his servant, in a sitting pos- 
ture, but defunct. The death of Professor Young 
left a vacuum in Greek literature in the kingdom. 
Great as the fame was of Sir Daniel Kite Sanford, 
his successor, it never echpsed or overshadowed 
the memory of Young. Sir Daniel too is with the 
dead. 

It would be doing immense injustice to the mighty 
dead, if I were to overlook in this connection the 
influence which the preachers in the city of Glas- 
gow exerted at that time over the expanding mind 
of Pollok. Chalmers was then in the flood tide of 
his popularity. His Astronomical sermons were 
rolling like a river of fire and glory through the 
kingdom. His Christian Economics was just pub- 
lished, and producing immense excitement among 

9 



98 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

all circles of society. Malthus, Riccardo and Ham- 
ilton, had done much in this department ; but he 
looked at the subject in the light of the Gospel, and 
spoke with the authority of a prophet. Irving had 
just appeared, and was stirring up the masses with 
his wonderful oratory. He seemed alone in his 
manner and matter. Like the angels who make 
pastime with thunderbolts, so he played in the pulpit 
with philosophy and Hterature ; and preached and 
prayed evermore as one who had a great commission 
from the heaven of heavens to guilty men. I speak 
not of Ewing, Wardlaw, Brown, Welsh, Dick and 
others, whose minds enlightened that epoch. It is 
enough to bring forward the fact, that it was the 
privilege of the author of " The Course of Time" 
to hear and see those master spirits. 

I insert one of the voluntary essays which he 
presented this session. It exhibits the progress of 
his knowledge as well as of his improvement in ver- 
sification. 

A TALE 

ILLUSTRATING THE UNITY OF JUSTICE AND BENEVOLENCE. 

In ancient days when great Augustus reigned, 
And o'er the world his peaceful sway maintained ; 
Beneath fair Hybla's brow, in Note's vale, 
Where thymy fragrance breathes on every gale ; 
Where fairest flowers their sweetest juice disclose, 
And every streamlet rich with honey flows ; 
Unknown to tumult, hurry, care or strife, 
The wealthy Dargoi led an easy life. 



OLD DARGOL. 99 

No wife, no child had ever called him dear ; 
He felt no raptures, and he knew no fear. 
Luxurious dainties pressed his sumptuous board, 
And ready servants wait their lonely lord. 
Deep hoarded stores his coffers safely kept ; 
In vain to ope them starving orphans wept. 
Yet he was just, as justice he defined ; 
He brake no law great Caesar had enjoined. 

With all his dainties, all his hoarded wealth, 

Man vainly hopes to bribe the stay of health. 

The hour drew on, when struggling with his breath, 

Old Dargol felt the fast approach of death. 

Then high the air his ardent prayer bore, 

A voice adoring, heaven ne'er heard before. 

Convincing death ! in thy appalling hour. 

Sceptics believe and scoffers own thy power, 

" Hear Jove !" he prayed, " hear gracious Jove! my cry : 

I lived in justice — let me happy die ! 

Send forth thy messenger, all righteous God, 

And guide my soul to some joy-girt abode," 

Almighty thunders volleyed from above, 

And earth, all quivering, feared the wrath of Jove. 

When lo! on Dargol's starry glimmering sight. 

The parting heavens gush forth immortal light. 

Two heavenly forms in silvery white array. 

Descend majestic in the blaze of day ; 

Linked hand in hand the graceful figures came : 

The husband one, and one his lovely dame. 

Severe his looks and yet severely mild ; 
For on his face his consort never smiled ; 
Deep penetration issues from his eyes, 
That all imposture all pretext defies. 
A starry sword his golden baldric stayed, 
All-weighing scales his dexter hand displayed. 
High on his breast in living gold made known. 
His awful name, Eternal Justice, shone. 



100 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

AU-lovely form ! to man how matchless fair ! 

Love, pity, mercy, marked his consort's air ; 

O'er all the earth her clement glances run, 

And scatter blessings like the blessing sun. 

Her air, her attitude, her looks, confess 

Herself unblest, while one her hand might bless. 

On her fair form great Justice ever smiled, 

Restrained her hand, or marked the worthy child. 

Her graceful arm sustained a fruitful vine : 

•' Come, child of sorrow !" bhssful letters, shine. 

No name she bore, denied to earthly fame ; 

But, who could doubt 1 Benevolence was her name. 

The pair approached ; earth smiled with their array, 
That blazed on Dargol more than mortal day. 
He viewed the forms — no fear his bosom felt; 
There, all-sufficient, fancied Justice dwelt. 
And thus he said : " Ye blest celestial pair, 
Come ye to lead me from the realms of card 
To waft my soul to some joy -girt abode. 
Prepared for virtue by the righteous God 1 
I have deserved ; in early virtue schooled, 
Unbending justice all my actions ruled." 
" Presumption, cease !" stern Justice now began, 
While heavenly wrath o'er all his visage ran ; 
" How dar'st thou proudly in our presence stand. 
And ask our guidance to the heavenly land 1 
Foul with injustice, dread our heavenly ire, 
And dread the waves of ever-boiling lire." 

The lovely queen now smiled with pitying grace. 
And awful Justice cleared his frowning face ; 
So the dear child, when frowns its sire array, 
Smiles in his face, and all his wrath's away. 
Undaunted yet, the prideful Dargol gazed. 
While from his eyes revengeful anger blazed. 
And thus replied : " Why namest thou me unjust 1 
Have e'er I stolen, or e'er betrayed my trust 1 
Lives there on earth who can of Dargol say, 
' He used my goods, but did not quickly pay V 



OLD DARGOL. 101 

Did e'er the sun from yonder west retire, 
Before my hand discharged the workman's hire 7. 
What court can say 1 once proposed a cause, 
A cause unjustified by Caesar's laws V 

*■ Man, self-deceived !" the awful form replies, 
And on his consort turns his peaceful eyes ; 
<* 'Gainst her, old Dargol, thy offence is great, 
And who offends her justifies my hate. 
Know then, unjust, know and repent thy crime. 
While mercy stays thee on the brink of time ; 
Ere yonder globe of heaven-enkindled flame 
Gazed on the earth, or warmed the starry frame ; 
Ere labouring chaos heard the plastic word. 
Or infant icorlds smiled homage to their Lord; 
Ere praise create swelled round the Eternal throne. 
Or burning seraph's dazzling glory shone ; 
With me united in eternal tie. 
Dwelt fair Benevolence, fairest of the sky ; 
In soul, in heart, in every act the same, 
Though two in form, and separate in name. 
Who frowns on her my awful sword must know. 
Or tears repentant stay the righteous blow. 
Ah ! trembling Dargol, hoary in thy guilt. 
Thy stony heart, benevolence never felt. 
The orphan wept, the widowed mother moaned ; 
The maimed, diseased, the hoary helpless, groaned. 
In vain they groan, the tears unheeded flow; 
Thy lonely heart ne'er felt a brother's woe ; 
Thy careless hand ne'er dried the orphan's tears, 
Soothed weary age, or stilled the widows fears. 
The fainting traveller saw thy splendid dome : 
He came in hope, but found no traveller's home. 
His feeble step stole from thy graceless door, 
W^ith disappointment, feebler than before. 
Damp, plagueful night, his glimmering soul suppress'd, 
He breathes his Ufe, a life thou shouldst have blest. 

" A virtuous female sighed, a lonely hfe, 
Designed for thee, a happy smiling wife ; 
9* 



102 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

But mailed in self 'gainst every kindred sigh, 
Thou leftst the lovely weeping maid to die. 
Hark ! — on the troubled blast, her lonely moan 
Still swells with woe, and bids thy life atone. 

" Mark, by yon hut, sad on the smiUng plain, 
All lone in grief, a hoary, virtuous swain. 
To thee well known was his unhappy son ; 
His wants well known, his matchless worth begun. 
Ah ! most unjust, how could thy hand forbear 
To Uft young genius struggling with despair ! 
Severe he struggled, poor, without a friend, 
To vanquish nature and attain his end. 
Alas ! from toils unaided, ceaseless, great. 
Disease, pale withering, gathered round his fate. 
His parents saw him wasting down to death ; 
Poor, helpless, saw him yield his youthful breath. 
An only son! Ah, how severe the blow ! 
In death the mother sought repose from woe. 
The hoary sire, amid the smiling clime. 
Like paly stalks that mourn in summer-time. 
Bows down in grief, and weeps the night and day, 
Obtesting heaven to let his soul away. 

" Ah, wicked Dargol, heaven thy justice knows ! 
From thy injustice sprang this tide of woes. 
The youth — his worth, his wants to thee were plain, 
'Twas thine to cherish with thy hoarded gain. 
Heaven gave thee much, that much thy hand might give 
To succour worth, and needy souls relieve : 
The blasted youth, his parents' woful fate, 
His country's wrong, prove thy injustice great. 

" Nor this alone ; the slanderer, unreproved, 
Blasted the virtuous and was more beloved. 
Even thy own tongue spread the defaming cry, 
And worthy men in slander more than die ; 
Thy trembling household ne'er enjoyed thy smile — 
The just reward, when faithful mortals toil. 
O'er-laboured, too, beneath thy cruel reign, 
The trusty brute writhed in untimely pain ; 



OLD DARGOL. 103 

Thy soul reluctant Cresar's tribute paid ; 
Thy hand compelled, thy heart still disobeyed ; 
And what to law reludanUy is given, 
Is given in vain before the eye of heaven. 
Ah ! in thy breast the awful voice of God, 
Loudly condemned each swerve from justice' road. 
This, wicked Dargol, this is all thy sin ; 
Unheeded spoke the warning voice within. 
Dargol ! foul with these wrongs to her — to me, 
Hop'st thou acquittal at my bar to see 1" 

Great Justice ceased : old Dargol speechless fell, 
Convinced of guilt — his anguish who can telH 
Before the heavenly pair his sorrows flow ; 
His tears, his groans, confess repentant woe. 
Remorseful throes convulse his ancient frame ; 
His face adheres to earth with conscious shame. 

As when the flames, driven through the wasted brake, 

With sudden fury, wake the careless snake, 

Convulsed a moment ere its life expires. 

It writhes, it tosses in the dreadful fires ; 

So writhed old Dargol, struggling in his grief. 

But heaven designed his anguished soul relief 

Benevolence wept ; immortal Pity sighs, 

" No wretch repentant in my presence dies." 

She raised the wight, composed his troubled soul, 

And thus her words in heavenly sweetness roll : 

" Thy Ufe's prolonged : go, man, unhoard thy store ; 

The wretched comfort, and thy God adore. 

Obey the law graven on thy heart alone — 

The law which tries thee at the Eternal throne." 

The blessed accents cease, and high in air, 

In Godlike motion, soar the faithful pair; 

The starry dwellers hymn them as they fly, 

Till heaven receives them, veiled from mortal eye ; 

Heaven heard their words, " A mortal turned to love," 

And joy superior filled the courts above. 



104 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

The harp of our youthful bard was struck in this 
effusion, for the good of man. He did not simply 
write for poetic fame ; but for the promotion of be- 
nevolence and mercy. This, too, is the more re- 
markable, when we reflect on the misanthropic and 
romantic character of the popular minstrelsy of that 
day. 



CHAPTER IV. 

" And being ill 
" At ease, for gods they chose them stocks and stones, 
Reptiles and weeds, and beasts and creeping things, 
And spirits accursed — ten thousand deities ! 
And bowing, worshipped these as best beseemed, 
With midnight revelry, obscene and loud, 
With dark, infernal, devilish ceremonies, 
And horrid sacrifice of human flesh, 
That made the fair heavens blush!" 

*' The Eaglesham Association for Religious Pur- 
poses" was instituted in January, 1821. The poet 
was elected to deliver an address before it on the 
duty of sending the Gospel to the Heathen ; which 
appointment he accepted ; and delivered the follow- 
ing oration in the Secession Church, with universal 
acceptance to the auditory, some two weeks after 
the close of the session at college. It is the first 
speech which he delivered in public, and is given 
verhatim from his manuscript. 

" Mr. President, — With pleasure I take this opportunity of ex- 
pressing my approbation of tlie spirit, order, and energy which have 
formed and conducted your Society ; and I would especially con- 
gratulate you, with all the other members of the Society, for the 
noble purpose of your exertions. Had you been only endeavouring 
to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or shed one ray of comfort on 
the dreary inhabitant of the dungeon, who would not have ap- 
plauded the humanity and righteousness of your motive 1 But 
when I know that your design is to clothe the spiritually naked, to 



106 LIFE OF rOLLOK. 

emancipate the slaves of the devil, to salute with the voice of 
mercy those who are rushing heedlessly on in the disastrous mazes 
and noisome damps of spiritual night, and to persuade them into 
that bright path whose issue is everlasting life ; may I not ask Who 
would not hasten to be one of your number ? — and, indeed, the 
strong attachment to knowledge, truth and religion, and the strong 
aversion to ignorance, error and superstition, which prevail among 
the enlightsned in your vicinity, have already rendered the list of 
your subscribers very respectable. To you and to them, Mr. Pres- 
ident, I would beg leave to sajj-, Ye shall not miss your reward. 
To the good man, the consciousness of having designed good, is a 
great reward ; but the accomplishment of his design is a greater. 
Your infant Society has, perhaps, not yet seen nor heard of its 
fruits, and been glad ; but as it is beginning to co-operate with those 
which have been abundantly blessed in plucking so many brands 
out of the burning, what may you not expect 1 I know that you 
and the other members of this Society have no greater joy than to 
hear, that, by the blessing of God on the exertions of British Chris- 
tians, thousands have been liberated from the iinbruting fetters of 
ignorance and superstition, lifted up from vile prostration to deaf 
and dumb idols, and taught the honourable worship of the living 
God. You need not be informed, nor I trust any in your Society, 
how rapid of late has been the flight, and how wide the conquests of 
that angel which flies in the midst of heaven, having the everlast- 
ing Gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every 
nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people ; and how widely he 
is proclaiming, with a loud voice, ' Fear God and give glory to him, 
for the hour of his judgment is come : and worship him who made 
heaven and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters.' To 
what I have said I know you are prepared to give full credit, and 
to the uninformed and unbelieving, let existing facts bear witness. 
Let them Usten through the medium of the most authentic commu- 
nications, some of which have been sealed with blood, to praises of 
Messiah, which are now heard here and there, from the rising to 
the setting sun. Let them behold, and it is a pleasing sight, the 
shivering Greenlander, whose mind for many past ages, like his 
wintry seas, has been frozen and benumbed by the cold breath of 
ignorance, and shrouded in darkness, now illuminated, melted, in~ 
vigorated, and fructified by the all-enlivening beams of ' the Sun of 
Righteousness.' Let them behold many a thirsty African, in the 



I\IISSIONARY ADDRESS. 107 

midst of his burning deserts, drinking of the immortal waters of the 
river of hfe, and eating of the fruit of that tree, ' whose leaves are 
for the heaUng of the nations.' Let them turn their minds to the 
banks of the Indus and the Ganges, and hear the howhngs of the 
beasts of prey, and the battle shout of warring savages, broken 
here and there by the sweet warbUngs of Immanuel's praise. Let 
them see the simple Hindoos, casting their deaf and dumb ' idols to 
the moles and to the bats,' and flying Hke doves to the windows of 
salvation. Let them hear with gratitude and delight, the hallelu- 
jahs of Euxine's shores respond to the hosannas of the Caspian ; 
while the immortal standard of the Cross waves the ensigns of 
peace on Caucasus's lofty brow. Let them behold the Persian, 
instead of travelling to Mecca, offering up to the Creator and Re- 
deemer the incense of a broken spirit and a pure heart. Nor have 
America's isles of slavery been altogether barren of ' the fruits of 
righteousness.' Although there hand has joined in hand to darken 
the glooms of ignorance, strengthen the shackles of slavery, and 
widen the waste places of death ; yet, even there, may be seen im- 
mortal souls eluding the grasp of oppression ; escaping the thick 
clouds of meditated ignorance ; and, in the Chariot of Salvation, 
triumphing away to the City of eternal refuge. No one needs to be 
told, that only a few years ago, throughout all these nations and 
people, not one beam of celestial day broke into the horrid gloom of 
their spiritual night ; not one of their songs of praise saluted the 
ear of Zion's King. By the blessing of God on the exertions of 
Bible and Missionary Societies, ' The wilderness and the solitary 
place are glad ; the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose ; the 
glory of Lebanon is given unto it ; the excellency of Carmcl and 
Sharon: They see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our 
God. The inhabitants of the rock sing, they shout from the top of 
the mountains. They give glory unto the Lord, and declare his 
praise in the islands.' Let these things bear witness that the word 
of the Lord is, indeed, not returning ' to him void ;' and that he is 
not calling men in vain, to go up with him to battle. 

" But were I to say, that the present contemplation of the victo- 
rious march of truth in the lands of ignorance was all the reward 
which awaits the Christian's exertions, I would be speaking apart 
from the words of inspiration. When this world, with all its enjoy- 
ments, has passed away, when gold cannot purchase one luxurious 
dish to the voluptuary, nor one moment's repose to the careless, nor 



108 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

one grim smilo to the earth-grasping miser, then shall the exertions 
of the Christian receive their full reward. When that Christian, 
who has been the means of spiritually enlightening the mind of a 
fellow-creature, has ' put on immortality,' when he is reposing him- 
self on the ever-verdant banks of the river of \ik, then from him 
shall be heard a louder note of prcuse, swelling the eternal hosannas 
of heaven. How much will it add to his endless bliss to shake 
hands, in the regions of immortality, with some once inhabitant of 
the desert, whom he has been permitted, by his benefactions, to be the 
means of elevating from the wastes of darkness, suffering and death, 
and of placing amid the brightness of immortal day, and the felici- 
ties of eternal life. His services have been greater, and his reward 
shall be proportioned to his services. ' The liberal soul shall be 
made fat ; and he that watereth shall be watered also himself 
* The wise,' or the teachers, ' shall shine as the brightness of the 
firmament, and they that turn,' or are instrumental in turning, 
' many to righteousness, as the stars forever and ever.' Verily, all 
who serve Christ shall find that his ' reward is with him.' 

" But after all this; after all the good which is produced on man- 
kind, and all the glory which redounds to God, by the exertions of 
Christians, in undeceiving the nations, many refuse to cast a single 
mite into the treasury of Christ. The man who acts in this manner, 
must be extremely indolent, if he can give no reason for his conduct. 
Of those who are in this assembly, if there are any, who have it in 
their power to join your Society, and yet join it not, I would beg 
leave to ask how they justify their conduct. Is it said by some, 
' We are, indeed, willing to " lend unto the Lord," but we have re- 
ceived so sparingly of the fovours of fortune, that we have nothing 
to give V If this apology have truth for its foundation, they who 
make it are more than excusable. He with whom they have to do, 
takes the will for the deed ; and they shall not miss their reward. 
But how few can with sincerity plead this excuse 1 A little atten- 
tion to economy would enable almost the poorest to contribute, less 
or more, to the funds of knowledge. Let them not imagine, that 
the Searcher of hearts will reject or overlook the smailness of the 
gift. He measures not the love and gratitude of his creature by the 
largeness of the sum bestowed, but by the willingness of the heart. 
In the eyes of Jesus Christ, ' the two mites' of the ' poor widow' 
were more precious than all the lordly sums of the rich, 

" Others may be heard saying, ' We satisfy all the demands of 



MISSIONARY ADDRESS. lOft 

the civil law : the hire of the workman never abides in our pocket ; 
we give good weight and good measure, and we " owe no man any 
thing;'" and compHmenting themselves, continue they, — ' it were 
well for the world, if all men acted after the same manner.' 

" Such men 1 would wish very much to undeceive. I do not 
hesitate to say, that it is not true that the man who possesses abun- 
dance, and at the same time is charitable only according to civil 
law, ' owes no man any thing.' Whoever does less good than his 
circumstances justify, sins against his fellow-creatures, and is really 
their debtor. Much has been given him, that he may give much to 
succour the fatherless and widow, and to administer the bread of 
life to the hungry soul. Every poor man whom he sends empty 
from his door, and every benighted soul, which he might have been 
the means of illuminating, will witness against him at that bar 
whence there is no appeal. 

" But, if the uncompassionate rich man still persist in saying — 
and what man can hinder him ?— that he owes his fellow-creatures 
nothing; shall he persist in saying that he owes nothing to his Godi 
' Cast thy bread upon the waters,- says the High One ; ' for thou 
shall find it after many days.' ' No,' replies the uncompassionate, 
'■ I will do what civil law coaapels me ; but I will not cast one 
handful to the gleaner.' And because the sword of Justice slum- 
bers, he triumphs in the rectitude of his answer. But let him be- 
ware, lest it be said concerning him, ' Let the tares grow until the 
harvest ;' and then shall the Lord of all things ask the unmerciful 
man, ' Where is the increase of my talents 7 What hadst thou, that 
thou didst not receive of me 1 Freely thou receivedst, freely thou 
shouldst have given. Thou hast shown no mercy, and dost thou 
expect mercy for thyself? Bind him, and cast him into prison. 
Verily, he shall not come out thence, till he has paid the uttermost 
farthing.' 

" With all these strong arguments against them, with the Lord 
of Hosts against them, shall there still some be found, who not only 
' withhold more than is meet,' but still claim to themselves the epi- 
thets of just, good, humane, and the like, and would frown indig- 
nantly were you to tell them that they have no right to the appella- 
tions 1 I am sorry that any of my fellow-creatures are unworthy 
to be called ji|^t and compassionate ; and I am unwilling to stigma- 
tize any with the name of wickedness. But let not Christians be 
imposed upon. ' The vile person' ought not to be ' called liberal,' 
10 



110 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

nor the 'churl bountiful.' Whatever the characters to which we 
have been alluding may think or say of themselves, they deserve 
and ought to be called, unjust, unsympathizing, haters of God and 
mankind, lovers of ignorance, superstition and death. 

" Many who unrighteously withhold the succours of the destitute, 
and who pretend to shelter themselves under the propriety of their 
conduct, would find the genuine reason for their manner of acting, in 
their own strong propensities to the pleasures of sense. Like the man 
of old, who could not come up to the feast, because he had ' married 
a wife,' they had much better say the truth, that they can contrib- 
ute nothing for the good of their fellow-creatures, or the glory of 
God, because it requires all they can spare, to satisfy the cravings 
of their lawless passions. This, I admit, may seem a very potent 
excuse in the eyes of him who makes it. Appetites and passions 
are powerful pleaders. But he who prefers their plea to his who is 
perishing for want of the bread of life, possesses a spirit at the 
same time mean and cruel. He is endeavouring to destroy others, 
that he may destroy himself He cares not how much he lav- 
ish on those who vegetate, luxuriate, and rot in their own moral 
turpitude, if he can but drink a little of their delicious poison. With 
what eyes will the pure hosts of heaven look down on the poor 
wretch 1 He will give nothing that he may conduct a soul up to 
heaven : but he v/ill give abundance, that his own may be driven 
down to hell. Surely ' Nabal is his name, and folly is with him.' 

" Another class of those, who cannot see it their duty to cast away 
money among the heathen, would find, were they to inquire, the 
true reason for this sight of their duty, in their unwillingness to 
part with money at all. The miser, or the man whose ruling pas- 
sion is the love of gold, will always find some reason with which 
he will pretend to justify the gratification of his favourite propen- 
sity. Such a being is generally heard saying, ' Had that poor man 
been industrious, he need have been asking alms from no one. To 
that other poor wretch it were vain to give any thing, for he squan- 
ders it away in criminal enjoyments. Something might be given for 
the benefit of the heathen, but that something wovild have to pass 
through so many hands, that really I am afraid it would never reach 
them. The world is so villanous now-a-days, who can be trusted V 
With such sophistries as these, the lover of gold labouts to deceive 
himself and the world. But the plain truth is, he is a worshipper 



MISSIOXARY ADDRESS. Ill 

of Mammon, and cannot be a worshipper of God. He cannot fol- 
low Christ, because he loves large possessions. 

" With such a being as this, it is almost in vain to argue. So 
thickly is he enveloped in darkness, that he has mistaken this world 
fjr his everlasting abode. Should you tell him that the most indus- 
trious and virtuous are sometimes baffled by fortune, and thrown 
over on the sympathies of charity ; should you picture to him the 
tears of the widowed mother, and the wailings of the naked orphan ; 
should you insist that he ought candidly to consider the combination 
of unhappy circumstances, which has led the wretched votary of 
guilt down to his present degradation — should you represent the 
seeds of virtue still living in his breast, the throes of remorse which 
sometimes agonize his soul, and the Avistful look which he casts back 
on virtue, bewaihngthe hour that seduced him from her happy path, 
and tell him, that w^ere he candid!}' to consider these things, that 
then, instead of saluting the guilt-blotted wretch with reproaches, 
or turning away in proud contempt, he woulil see it his duty to 
stoop down in mercy, to instruct, comfort, relieve ; should you assure 
liim that men of most stubborn honesty and tried fidelity, have the 
management of the funds designed for the benefit of the heathen ; 
his answer would still be. ' There is, indeed, much distress and much 
ignorance; but then impostures are so numerous, and, in fact, the 
v/orld has been so active in accomphshing its own wretchedness, 
that really it deserves no help.' From a being of this kind, I would 
gladly turn away my eyes : he is the greatest disgrace to humanity, 
and the most inveterate enemy to the Spirit of Christianity. It were 
Vv^ell would he consider who is his enemy. He who loves not his breth- 
ren of mankind, has his Maker for his enemy. He that is not merci- 
ful, how shall he obtain mercy ? His gold and his silver shall not be 
able to deliver him in the day of the Lord's wrath. But why should 
we argue with him 1 He has 'joined himself to idols, let him alone.' 
Vou need not be concerned, Mr. President, about the want of his as- 
sistance. Let him bow down to his cankered heaps, and aggrandize 
them ' for the last days.' Without his aid your enterprise shall be 
successful. He is on your side who calls all worlds, and all their 
fulness his own. 

" I can scarcely believe that any GaUios hear me — any who never 
inquire into their duty, and therefore suppose they never violate it. 
It would be easy, I think, to convince such persons, that he who 
continues to live willingly ignorant of his duty, continues willingly 



112 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

to violate his duty. But I beg leave only to request that all such 
persons would devote one hour, and the hour would not be lost, 
to the contemplation of the worth of an immortal soul. And it 
would, perhaps, not be unprofitable for them to recollect at the same 
time, that there will be no unconcerned spectators at the day of 
judgment. ' He that is not with me,' says Christ, ' is against me.' 

'■ Are there some, again, who say, ' Why so much concern about 
Christianizing the heathen 1 The Lord will hasten it in his time. 
We pray daily that Christ's kingdom may come, and that is suf- 
ficient. We leave the rest to him " who worketh, and none can let 
it." ' The fallacy and selfishness of this reasoning are extremely 
palpable. The Lord will, indeed, hasten the time when men 
' shall fear his name from the west, and his glory from the ris- 
ing of the sun.' It is truly he who ' worketh,' and none shall ' let it.' 
But he worketh by his servants, and his servants must be sup- 
ported. It is by ' many' running ' to and fro,' that ' knowledge is 
increased ;' and it is by the blessing of God on the contributions of 
Christians, that 'many' are enabled to 'run to and fro.' It is 
very right that all should pray for the enlightening of the nations. 
But can a man consistently pray that Christ's kingdom may come, 
and yet say in his heart at the same time, ' I would not give one 
farthing for its advancement. Let the heathen be converted, but let 
none of the expenses come on me V The Christian, if Christian 
he can be called, who acts thus, resembles very much the physician 
who should fall down on his knees, and pray that this or that medi- 
cine might be blessed for the recovery of his patient, while he dili- 
gently withheld from the patient the medicine itself. Would any 
person believe that the physician who acted in this manner was 
in earnest 1 And who shall believe that man to be in earnest who 
has it in his power, and yet contents himself with praying, if praying 
it can be called, for the advancement of Christ's kingdom 1 May he 
not expect this reception from the Father of spirits — ' Go first feed 
the hungry, and clothe the naked, and then bring thy gift to the 
altar V That Chiist will provide the means for increasing the num- 
ber of his worshippers is true. But will not the wealthy man, who 
does no more than wish the Gospel well, be likely to meet the fate of 
Meroz 1 Barak discomfited Sisera, and all his chariots and all his 
host; yet says the angel of the Lord, ' Curse ye Meroz. curse ye 
bitterly the inhabitants thereof, because they came not to the help 
of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty.' 



MISSIONARY ADDRESS. 113 

" I hope there are few in your vicinity who firmly oppose them- 
selves to the designs of your Society; few who maintain, that the 
heathen are beings of an inferior order to us, and therefore deserve 
not our serious attention. Proud mortals ! might we not ask, Has 
not the most ignorant savage an immortal soul 1 and is not the 
happiness or misery of that soul to be measured by Eternity 1 If 
he is inferior to the proudest of Europe's sons, it is only because his 
means of improvement have been inferior. The savage is ignoranti 
because he has not the means of acquiring knowledge ; and on this 
account is he less deserving of our sympathy 1 Is it not in fact, because 
he is ignorant and imbruted, that he requires our illuminating aid 1 
' They that are whole need not a physician. Whoever opposes him- 
self to the civilization of the heathen, must be destitute of divine love. 
Did Christ leave the glory of his Father's right hand, and expose 
himself to the wrath of God that he might save his equals 1 or did 
he not rather do all this, that he might save the rebels to his gov- 
ernment, the worms of his footstool I And shall the proudest of the 
sons of earth think his fellow-worm beneath his notice '? Those 
who talk of the worthlessness of the heathen, are generally among 
that filthy number who are afraid lest the slavery of mankind cease* 
They know very well, that were all the tribes of earth brought ' to 
the knowledge of the truth,' they would soon be stronger than their 
taskmasters, and fling from them the disgi'aceful bands of slavery. 
But let oppressors do their utmost : they shall never be able to coun- 
teract 5'our designs. He who fights for you is stronger than they 
who fight against you. The wicked may ' take counsel together 
against the Lord, and against his Anointed j' but ' He that sitteth 
in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision,' 
And what shall they do when the Lord of Hosts takes up ' the 
weapons of his indignation' and 'mustereth the hosts of the battle. 
Verily, the sable African shall not always be a prey : he shall yet 
' rule over his oppressors ;' for the Lord ' shall give to his Son the 
heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for 
his possession.' 

Some may be ready to conclude, that, if the accounts which they 
hear of the prosperous advance of the Gospel in the lands of dark- 
ness be true, sufficient has been already done for the good of the 
heathen. A little inquiry, however, would prevent every one from 
drawing this conclusion. The angel on the white horse is, indeed, 
making rapid conquests ; but much remains vet to be subdued. I 
10* 



114 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

will not take up your time in recounting to you the numerous na- 
tions that are, at this moment, ' without God and without hope in 
the world ;' and the millions of their inhabitants that debase huinan 
nature, by the endless absurdities of their superstitions, and the 
wild cruelty of their sacrifices. These are facts of which few are 
ignorant. We are glad to have it to say, that much has been con- 
tributed for the benefit of the heathen ; and that much good these 
contributions have done. But as it is observed by a writer in the 
Christian Monitor, ' The translation of the Bible into the various 
languages of mankind, and giving them a circulation corresponding 
to the wants of the destitute ; the preparation of Missionaries for 
their interesting work, sending them to scenes of active operation, 
and maintaining them in their destinations, not only when acquiring 
the languages they are afterwards to use, but while informing the 
minds of those whom they address, inspiring them with Christian 
tempers, and convincing them that the Gospel labourer '• is worthy 
of his hire," require an extent of funds, which the inconsidei'ate are 
unable to calculate, and the parsim.onious unwilling to advance. 
Now, unless funds sutficient for this purpose are advanced, much 
of what has been done must be rendered ineffectual. The glim- 
merings of day, which have penetrated the realms of darkness, will 
be driven back. In the world, the territories of the devil are yet 
much wider than the dominions of the Messiah ; ajid shall the 
Christian, the soldier of Jesus Christ, desert his Master in the midst 
of the battle 1 shall he not rather press onward that he may rejoice 
in the triumph of the victory 1 

" Before I conclude, Mr. President, I would request this audience 
to take a serious view of the poor savage, half-fed, half-clothed, wan- 
dering in some dreary forest, amid toil and hazard, to gather from 
among the beasts of the field, a precarious and scanty fare. Mark 
him again ; in the darkness of midnight take his dagger in his hand, 
leave his home, and, full of revenge for some real or supposed in- 
jury, burst into the hovel of his slumbering neighbour, and, without 
ever awakening him, plunge the dagger into his breast, while the 
screaming of women and children only hastens the murderous wea- 
pon into their own hearts. Observe the bloody wretch cast an eye 
of grim dehght over the mangled remains of his fellow-mortals, and 
then return to his home exulting in the horrid deed. Behold him, 
now holding his hands above his head, till they are withered away, 
or measuring with his body the length of many leagues ; or wrest- 



MISSIONARY ADDRESS. 115 

ing his own child from the breast of the trembhng mother, and cast- 
ing it into the merciless flames, to appease the wrath of some im- 
aginary, malignant deity. See him at last, taken by enemies no 
less cruel than himself, and thrown into dark loathsomeness, where 
his flesh is cut away, piece by piece, or agonized with the mortal 
bite of remorseless serpents. Or see his enemies, impatient for his 
inmost blood, and wishing to please the god who, they suppose, has 
delivered him into their hands, cast him alive into the burning pile. 
See him tossing and writhing in the deathful fires. Hear him call- 
ing on stocks and stones to come and save him ; or mark him, with 
stubborn endurance braving his fate, or shuddering in the very last 
gasp, lest he should fall into the hands of some cruel being which 
will rejoice in making him eternally wretched. And what mind 
would venture to follow him further 1 'Where there is no vision 
the people perish.' 

" Let no one imagine all this is a fable. I am not willing to rep- 
resent misery more miserable than it is. Such, or similar events, 
really fill up the life of thousands of our fellow-creatures. And 
shall a man still retain the name of Christian, and yet look on all 
this with indifference 1 

" Were I but to hint to the females in this assembly, how wretched 
a life the female savage endures — were I to tell them that she is liter- 
ally the slave of her stupid lord — that, subjected to continued drudg- 
ery, without ever enjoying his approving smile, she toils out a life of 
unmingled bitterness — that when she has laboriously prepared a re- 
past for her sluggish master, however keen her appetite, she must wait 
till he has fully satisfied himself, and then seem well pleased with the 
morsel which he condescends to leave — and that if she happen, in the 
slightest degree, to offend against his caprice, torture and death are 
the immediate punishment inflicted on the helpless woman ; — were I 
to tell them that the condition of their own sex among savages is so 
truly miserable, that many women put their female infants to death, 
lest, by continuing their life, they should entail upon them the 
wretchedness of their mothers ; — were I to tell my female hearers fur- 
ther, that such will be the state of their own sex among savages, till 
the understandings of the men are enlightened by knowledge, and 
their hearts softened by the mild influences of Christianity ; — were 
my female hearers but requested to look on this picture, I am per- 
suaded there is not one among them that has so hard a heart, or 
that looks with so Uttle contempt on the vanities of life, but would 



116 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

make it possible to convey less or more into the funds of your So- 
ciety. What one among them would deny herself that delightful 
task, the sweet satisfaction of elevating the degraded of her own sex 
to that honourable place in the scale of life, which European women 
so deservedly enjoy '? 

" In conclusion, I would say that you have much to expect from 
the general good sense which prevails in your vicinity. Your list 
of subscribers, as we said, is already very respectable ; and we trust 
that those who have hitherto discountenanced you, will no longer 
shelter themselves under refuges of lies. To every Christian the 
heathen are calling, with the voice of ardent entreaty, ' Come over 
and help us against the armies of eternal death.' And the King of 
Zion is commanding all his hosts to go up with him to battle ; and 
who shall linger behind 1 Who shall deny himself the honour of 
the victory 1 Who would stop the river of life in its course, and 
snatch the heavenly manna from the hungry soul 1 None of those, 
I am persuaded, w^ho hear me. They will exert themselves with all 
their might, that they may see the darkness of superstition and ig- 
norance dissipated by the effulgence of knowledge and true religion ; 
that they may see tyranny, oppression, and slavery, with all their 
relentless abettors, and all their chains and burdens, ' cast into the 
lake of fire;' that they may behold hell-nursed vice and horrid war, 
with all their wastes, and famines, and groans, ^nd weapons of 
death, thrown down into utter darkness; while heaven-bred virtue 
and blissful peace smile over all the earth, with truth and liberty, 
happiness and immortality, triumphing in their train. Yes, Mr. 
President, they tdl wish to hail that happy day, when every shadow- 
shall vanish before the Sun of Righteousness; when the devil and 
his angels shall be cast out of the earth ; when ' incense and a pure 
offering' shall be presented to Zion's King, from the rising to the 
setting sun; when the universal voice of the rational creation shall 
be, ' Hosanna to the King of Israel ! blessed is he that cometh in tbe 
name of the Lord !' when salvation shall triumph gloriously, 

' And peaceful nations own the Prince of Peace.' 

If, then, the arrival of this happy era be their great desire, let them 
be fellow-workers with Christ : let them cast their mite into his 
treasury, and they need fear no want of success. Verily, ♦ the glory 
of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, foi 
the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.' " 



HYMN. 117 

This missionary oration is entitled to the very 
first place in EngHsh prose composition. It is the 
production of a mind which was skilled in the idiom 
and power of the language. It is copious, compre- 
hensive, terse. Now rushing like a rapid river, 
now rounding some difficult headland, and then be- 
coming expansive and grand like the ocean itself. 
There is, also, a chiselled accuracy about ever}^ 
paragraph. 

The subject is also well treated : indeed it is a 
specimen of the manner how such a subject should 
be discussed. There are no wild, unmeaning flights 
of imagination ; no gross violations of taste : nor 
are unnecessary epithets introduced. The strong- 
holds of error are stormed and taken, and the op- 
poser himself utterly vanquished. We are not 
aware of ever having seen more perfect sketches in 
prose of heathen WTetchedness than in the portrai- 
tures of the male and female savages. 

The following hymn was probably written as a 
tribute to the Saviour of heathen man, and is w^orthy 
of the author of " The Course of Time.'"' 

A HYMN. 

When Satan, man s infernal foe, 

By pride and hate impelled, 
Had pkmged our race in guilt and woe, 

And forth from bUss expelled ; 

The mighty Lord of love and grace, 

Who sits enthroned on high, 
In mercy viewed the ruined race, 

And sent his Son to die. 



118 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

He sent his Son from his right hand 
To this lost world of woes, 

By death to conquer and command 
All our destroying foes : 

To conquer sin, and death, and hell, 
And triumph o'er the grave ; 

The great Destroyer to expel. 
And all his people save. 

O wondrous love ! O boundless grace ! 

For God's own Son most high, 
Our sinful nature to embrace, 

To suffer and to die ! 



CHAPTER V. 

" But whatsoever was both good and fair, 
And highest relish of enjoyment gave, 
In intellectual exercise was found." 

In sailing along the sea shore, the navigator is 
guided in his course by the headlands and light- 
houses. He forms them in his own mind into a 
chain of distances and location, each object being 
an important link ; nor can he pass one and forget 
to register it, without perilling the safety of his ship 
and crew ; taking care, however, to concatenate 
one thing with another, like the mathematician in a 
demonstration, he lands in safety at the harbour 
which formed the last point in the series of objects. 

The biographer has to pursue a not dissimilar 
course. He has to look at the prominent incidents 
and angles in the character he portrays. Like the 
navigator, he passes unnoticed many a scene of 
beauty and interest ; nor can he do more than 
glance over the whole line of the individual's earthly 
existence, and chroncicle a few of the evanescent 
acts and states. The innumerable emotions which 
may have influenced the person cannot be noticed. 
No man can embody the ideas in language, which 
have lodged in another mind ; and which were 
never covered with the garniture of words. The 



120 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

reader of biography should expect, at most, to find 
only a few broken links of a great chain, ingeniously 
joined together. This is all that should be asked. 
Influenced and controlled by these considerations, I 
introduce several letters that have been preserved ; 
and which are the only memorials existent of the 
poet's history during the summer vacation of 1821. 
The first one consists entirely of what he calls 
a " Discussion on Compositional thinking," and was 
addressed to a literary friend. 

" 3Ioorhouse, May 28, 1821. 

" Dear Friend, — I have frequently heard you speak of the diffi- 
culty of expressing thought clearly and elegantly in language. 
This has led me to reflect often on the subject of composition ; and 
I have been compelled to differ considerably from the critics on this 
subject. It is generally found recorded in some corner of every 
critic's works, ' that he who thinks clearly and elegantly, will not 
fail to speak and write clearly and elegantly also.' This sentiment, 
although it has often been promulgated from the critic's tribunal, 
with all the authority of a Pythian oracle, I am, nevertheless, in- 
clined to controvert, nay, even disbelieve. Did every one write his 
vernacular language, it is probable that every one would clearly ex- 
press what he clearly understood. But if one has spoken the Scotch 
language for twenty years, and has seen part only of the English 
stored up in books, how is it possible that he can write with ease in 
English? Would it be just to say that the Scotch farmer was a 
confused thinker, because he could not describe the beauty of his 
fields, or the formation of his plough, in the English tongue 1 If 
this would be unjust, it is equally so to arraign the Scotch student's 
talents, because, in his outset, he expresses himself with sluggish- 
ness and perplexity. Every Scotchman who learns to write good 
English, must first learn, from books, the English language. In 
this country the EngHsh is a ' dead language :' it is never used ex- 
cept in studied orations. To write in a language in which we have 
not been accustomed to think, seems to be the peculiar privilege of 
the critic. Of this, the opinion we have been endeavouring to con- 



ESSAY. 121 

demn, is a sufficient proof. Did the Scotch critic submit to the 
druf'gcry of thmkinjr, before he pronounced every Scotchman an 
oaf who could not write easily and correctly in the Enghsh tongue, 
he would probably see reason to lay aside so hurtfuf an opinion! 
The opniion is huitlul, because many believe what critics say ; and, 
therefore, many must be thought blockheads who are really not so' 
and surely this is an injury done to mankind. 

" The opinion which I have dared to dispute, is, I believe, no new- 
one. There is no doubt that it was in daily circulation amona the 
Greeks and Romans; and among them it was less a lie than it is 
among us. Some of our addle-headed modern critics have certainly 
dug the sentiment from the Siccaneous heaps of ancient criticism; 
and after dressing it in an English garb, have endeavoured to nat- 
uralize It among us. But they should have recollected a favourite 
maxun of their owai, namely, attention to circumstances. The Hy- 
metlian thyme would lose its delicate perfume, were it transplanted 
to the climate of Lapland. The Itahan vine would yield few grapes 
en the mountains of Scotland. So an opinion, which was true 
and useful at Rome, might be false and injurious at Edinburgh. 

" I have said, perhaps, too much on this subject ; but I have spoken 
at large, because the sentiment under consideration has been long 
current and of wide circulation. And there is nothing more detri^ 
mental to- the progress of the student than the belief, thlit if he can- 
not express every thing clearly and elegantly in English, he is a 
confused and feeble thinker. Such an opinion of himself places in 
his own way a strong barrier to improvement. His spirits are 
damped and his exertions unnerved, because he imagines he has 
much greater obstacles to surmount than others, belbre he can 
reach a respectable mediocrity ; and a much better excuse if he 
should shrink back from the path of improvement and honour, and 
seek shelter in the much devouring gulf of indolence and oWiv'ion. 

" After saying so much in opposition to some great men, I shall 
now say something more in harmony with them. To think cor- 
rectly, clearly, and elegantly, is absolutely necessary, if we would 
write with ease, perspicuity and neatness ; although the reverse of * 
the proposition will not hold true. Before w*e can°wield the English 
language with grace and dignity, we must have learned to thin\ in 
in it— a task in which much of the difficulty of composition consists. 
There are two principles in human nature, which always war 
against one another— activity and indolence. Activity sets the 
11 



122 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

mind to work, and urges it to continual investigation ; indolence, 
although it is too feeble a pnn.-iple ever to lay the mind totally 
asleep, is yet always endeavouring, and often too successiully, to di- 
minish the labour of thinking, by hurrying the mind from one object 
to another, without permitting it to make one thorough investigation. 
Hence it happens, that so many men arrive at old age with so scanty 
mental acquisitions. The mind will not be lulled to entire rest, be- 
cause this would be to lull it out of existence. But it is the custom 
of the herd of mankind, and of many of those who are the head and 
shoulders above the rest, to leave the contemplation of an object, 
whenever the contemplation of it has become a task. On a beauti- 
ful landscape, every one reflects with ease and delight. Every im- 
agination readily represents the mass of objects of which the land- 
sea oe is composed, and many are content with this confused review 
of it. The ideas which the landscape has produced in the mind, are 
not properly formed into words ; at least, the language is of a mixed 
and barbarous kind. Reflection of this sort is easy, and this is all 
that indolence naturally permits. But this is not thinking in Eng- 
lish. To think in English, the landscape must be made to pass be- 
fore the mind, not only as a whole, but every object must be vieweJ 
in connection with surrounding objects. We must view the stream- 
let, leaping down from the rugged mountain ; here lost under the 
embracing luxuriance of the hawthorn, the hazel, or the broom ; 
there hurrying down the silvery rapid, bursting forth in a beautiful 
cascade. After you have conducted the waters to the adjoining 
plain, you must not leave them to wamler alone. Nay, the beauty 
of the fields should be so fascinating as to induce the river to make 
a thousand meanders, as if unwilUng to quit the scene. You must 
review its daisied sloping banks, richly clad with flocks and herds^ 
grazing in easy joy, or ruminating in safe repose. Look to the 
peaceful shepherd, spreading his listless length beneath the bloom- 
ing hawthorn, chanting on his artless reed ; or, lost in love, gazing 
on the limpid stream, while his dog slumbers at his feet, or snaps at 
the encroaching fly. And a little down the stream you may ven- 
ture half to reflect on the reclining form of the youthful shepherd- 
ess. A gentle birch might stretch forth its tremulous hands, turning 
aside the too violent sunbeams froia the love-looking face of the 
guileless maid. Her bosom might beave with kind desires, and her 
eye long, with hopeful modesty, for the arrival of her lover. The 
daisy, the violet, and the cowslip, should suule redundant beauty. 



ESSAY. 123 

the kindest zephyrs regale her with their most delicate perfumes, the 
lark warble over her head, and the blackbird serenade her from the 
luxuriant elm. Now you must look at the river constrained between 
two rocks, boiling and roaring to get free, and then winding peace- 
fully along the level plains and flowery meadows — cultivated na- 
ture waving richly with the hopes of the husbandman, 

'•■ Numberless more objects must be thought over, in a landscape 
of any extent, or beauty, or variety. English words must be found 
to represent every object ; words to bear out the mutual relation and 
mutual effect, and words to generalize the effect of the whole. This 
mode of thought I would colt cmnposit'ionat thinking. Whoever has 
brought his mind thus to continue every idea, till its proper repre- 
sentative has been ascertained, has acquired what will soon render 
his composition correct and expressive. Compositional thinking 
should not be satisfied with the first word that offers itself for the 
representation of an idea. The word should be carefully sought 
which corresponds exactly to the idea. Nor should a sluggish ar- 
rangement of terms content us. Different forms of collocation should 
be tried till the sense be not enfeebled or obscured by the language, 
nor the language crippled or savaged by the sense. The very con- 
trary of this frequently happens in thinking. The mind looks for a 
moment into the object which attracts it, and then hurries to an- 
other, leaving a course marked only by confusion, scantiness, or 
vacuity. To think often on trifles, is not the duty of a being whose 
origin is heaven, and whose final retreat should be there. But on 
whatever we do think, the mind should be kept upon it till every idea 
suggested has fairly formed itself into English language. To think in 
this manner, is not only the best means of acquiring facility in com- 
position, but discovers whether the object of contemplation be des- 
picable or worthy, and informs us what is the value of the ideas 
suggested. We are thus made acquainted with the exact degree of 
our knowledge on every subject — an acquaintance which will often 
mortity pride, but always improve the man. 

" To compose often formally is certainly the best method of learn- 
ing to compose well. But to think always compositionally, is the 
easiest way of gaining expedition, correctness and elegance, in for- 
mal writing. 

" Of all kinds of composition, none seems to me more difficult than 
definite and well-marked description of external nature and human 
character. These are objects on which we have been accustomed 



124 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

to gaze from our earliest years, and we can easily represent them 
in a kind of barbarous, colloquial jargon. But with the legitimate 
English words which the survey of variegated scenery, or the ob- 
servation of an interesting character, should suggest, we are little 
acquainted. Of philosophical disquisition, we have thought spar- 
ingly in boyhood. The genuine language of philosophy is, there- 
fore, learned with philosophy itself That proper descriptive words 
may be acquired, it is necessary to see or hear them. Of hearing 
them in common conversation, we have small opportunity. In the 
pulpit, professed description of external nature is rare ; and good 
or bad generally suffices for a character. Preachers say little of 
costumes, attitudes of body, or expressions of countenances. When 
a more full display of particulars is attempted, the aid of the apos- 
tle Paul is generally called in; and, indeed, his descriptions of gen- 
eral moral character are extremely full and expressive. Still we 
Imve almost nothing from the pulpit expressive of the endless shad- 
ings of character which men display, when they walk, sit, eat, talk, 
salute, look, laugli, weep, and so forth ; and description of costumes 
is rarely a necessary part of a sermon. To books, therefore, we 
must turn, if we would make the language of description our own : 
and we should never read without comparing the copy with the 
original — if the original be within our reach. 

" Lest I should turn a critic, or what is nearly the same thing, a 
lecturer on the art of writing, and like a very bulky class of these 
critics and lecturers, only display my own frigid stupidity ; ' I shall 
stop here,' or, in my own words, close my discussion. 

" R. POLLOK." 

This letter is one of great., intrinsic, literary 
value. It presents in a few w^ords a correct and 
explicit exhibition of the elements essential to the 
attainment of a pure English style. First, is shown 
the necessity of being able to think in English ; 
which involves the consideration of being able to 
give the English idea to the sensation ; and next to 
clothe that idea in English garniture. His views 
too about the classification of objects in composition, 



LETTER. 125 

cannot be too highly appreciated. Indeed we were 
forcibly reminded in the perusal of the " Discus- 
sion," of the astute chemist who pursues the ana- 
lytic process and then the synthetic one. Every 
teacher of youth would greatly facihtate the art of 
composition, by requiring the students under his 
care to commit this epistle to memory. It is, with- 
out doubt, a rich legacy to the millions whose ver- 
nacular is the English. Nor is there one sugges- 
tion in it, which is not the result of his own experi- 
ence ; and he began early in life to study critically 
his own language. One of the canons of his fa- 
ther, was, never to pass a word which he did not 
understand without looking for it in the dictionary ; 
nor did any son ever more rigidly respect a fath- 
er's counsel. 

The University of Glasgow has not only a large 
and valuable collection of books, in what is called 
the University Library, but a select and useful li- 
brary to every separate class. I mention this with 
a view of throwing light upon the following letter 
which he sent to his brother, who was spending the 
summer vacation in the city of Glasgow, near the 
University. 

" Moo7iwuse, Jutie 1, 1821. 

" Dkar Brother, — If you would get some books out of the Ethic 
Libro.ry for me, on Monday first, you would do me a very great 
kindness. I cannot be there when the library opens. Perhaps the 
librarian wishes the book-getters to attend in person. But you can 
tell the librarian that I cannot attend, and that it would be unjust 
not to send me books, if my commissioner be trustworthy. Tell him 
to recollect Mr. Mylne's lectures on justice and bemvolence. The 
11* 



126 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

books shall be kept and returned according to the rules of the 
library. 

*' Your librarian will, perhaps, send me three books. I will men- 
tion a few : • Hartley on Man ;' I wish very much to see this book ; 
' Robertson's History of India;' ' Formey's History of Philosophy ;' 
and failing these — ' Goldsmith's Animated Nature ;' ' Locke on the 
Human Understanding ;' ' Harrington's Oceana ;' ' Aristotle's Art 
of Poetry ;' ' Pope's Life of Scriblerius,' &c. ; ' Father Male- 
branche's Search after Truth;' ' Blackstone's Commentaries;' 
' Hamilton on National Debt,' &c. 

" If the good hbrarian happen to intrust you with a few books to 
me, I trust you will let me have them by the first opportunity. 

" Lest you should not think me serious about ' Hartly on Man,' 
I may mention that a ministerial friend of mine wishes to see it. 

" R. POLLOK." 

This letter is valuable, inasmuch as it opens up 
to our gaze his tastes and course of reading, at the 
time. Nor can we avoid remarking, that it is an- 
other proof of his desire for general knowledge. It 
is the fewer number of students who break over a 
college corriculum, and grapple with history and 
philosophy in their wider fields ; not more than one 
in a class extends his inquiries into political econ- 
omy and the principles of jurisprudence. 

It appears from examining his note-book, that 
"Forney's History of Philosophy," and "Gold- 
smith's Animated Nature," were sent to him by the 
librarian. There is in his own chirography, an 
abridgment of the former, and a selection of facts 
from the latter. It is impossible to disclose the ef- 
forts of such a mind. They are only known to the 
Omniscient. 

1 In the month of July, he visited a portion of Ayr- 
shire, and recorded in a journal a transcript of his 



JOURNAL. 127 

feelings and observations. From the phraseology- 
it is probable he designed to copy it, and send it to 
a friend. 

"brief account of peregrinations during the month of 

JULY, 1821. 

" R. POLLOK, 

" Dear Friend, — On Friday, 29th June, I left Moorhouse about 
seven o'clock in the morning. I set my face towards Horsehill. 
My father and mother, and some more of my friends, were also go- 
ing there. They had a horse and cart, and had promised to give 
me a ride ; but by some neglect or other, 1 missed them at the out- 
set. I was now greatly embarrassed. I considered this unlucky 
beginning as an earnest of my future travels. Superstition and 
philosophy held a loud debate within me. The former urged that 
mischances and disappointments in the outset were nothing but 
prelibations of deeper distresses in the issue ; and numberless le- 
gends were quoted to confirm the assertion. The latter insisted 
that the future could be known only by travelling into it ; that the 
beggar had no reason to despair of getting his alms in the second 
house, because he had found a shut door at the first, as the nig- 
gardly and the generous often dwell in the same neiglibourhood. 1 
waited some time for the decision of the two contending powers ; 
but two enemies so potent and inveterate, w^ere not hkely to come 
to a speedy termination of hostilities. What must I do ? To re- 
main at home w^as contrary to my promises ; to travel through dif- 
ficulties was contrary to my inclination, At this perplexing crisis, 
it occurred to me, in opposition to the arguments of superstition, 
that the key had once fallen from my hand into the mire, just when 
I had locked the door to be absent in quest of a partner for the im- 
portant business of a concert. On this former occasion, the event 
had equalled my highest wishes : all had been prosperity and hap- 
piness. Together with this strong proof in favour of philosophy, the 
irresistible light of a Scotch proverb forced itself into my mind — 
' Hard beginnings make good endings.' Trusting to the wisdom of 
my ancestors, I marched on ; and in the course of half an hour 
came up with the cart. 1 mounted it and rode to Horsehill. In 
the meantime, I was suitably admonished by my mother, always to 
ask what road those meant to travel whom I wished to accompany. 



128 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

*' I found my friends at Horsehil! all well, except my worthy un- 
cle David. For some years past his body has resembled the vege- 
table creation: it has decayed in winter, and revived in summer. 
But the present summer seems to have denied him its nourishing in- 
fluences. He is much paler than usual, and less of his mortal part 
remains. He is not melancholy, however. Like the leafless oak, 
he seems to be decaying with cheerful dignity. 

" From Horsehill I set out for Greenside. On my way thither, 
I met my brother David and my very worthy friend Mr. David 
Marr, who returned with me to Greenside, where I found all my 
relations in good health : the two elder daughters smiling in all 
the luxuriance of youth and beauty. The same evening I return- 
ed to Horsehill, in company with Margaret Taylor, her sister Ma- 
rion, and their brothers John and David, together with Mr. Marr 
and my brother. The evening was extremely fine, and my pleas- 
ure was greatly heightened by the company in which I was pla- 
ced. The two ladies in company might not be unfitly compared 
to Minerva and Venus. Like these goddesses, their beauty might 
have been a subject of debate. Margaret resembled Minerva and 
Marion was a good copy of Venus — only there is nothing of that 
fierceness about her eyes, which was the ancient cause of so much 
mischief 

" On our way to Horsehill, we had occasion to call at a small 
house, inhabited by a widow-mother and an only daughter. A 
kind of pleased surprise looked out of the countenance of the good 
old mother when we entered. There were few chairs in the house, 
but the mistress observed that she had ' plenty elsewhere.' I was 
under the agreeable necessity of taking my fair companion on my 
knee. We were sitting in this truly friendly manner when the 
daughter entered ; — for she had been out tethering a foster-ewe. 
Her face had the undesigning, lamblike appearance of the animal 
that she had just left. After a few questions and answers of com- 
monplace importance, we left this little habitation of peace. Here 
I had seen no face strongly marked with the lines of tliinking ; but 
entertainment was there. In going out of the house, this passage 
of King Solomon's forced itself strongly upon my mind : — ' He that 
increaseth in knowledge, increaseth sorrow.' ' And shall I give up 
the search after knowledge V said I to myself Something whis- 
pered, ' No ;' for he that increaseth knowledge also increaseth 
pleasure. 



JOURNAL. 129 

" Converse, pleasing if not very profound, occupied our time till 
we arrived at Horsehill. Here we drank tea in company with a 
number of our friends. Three of as were students, reputed to be 
looking forward to the ministry. There were, consequently, a few 
strokes of wit directed against the money-loving spirit of clergymen; 
for this is a subject which wits have long enjoyed. My worthy un- 
cle David was in the company ; and his wonderful stores of knowl- 
edge flowed out at intervals, with overwhehning sweep. I sat 
and admired, and wished to myself that I could inherit his mental 
acquirements. ' I would rather have them,' said I, ' than his farm.' 
Perhaps I vv^as imposing upon myself; but the delusion, if it was 
one, pleased me. One of my uncle's remarks would be extremely 
useful, were it reduced to practice : ' It is always dangerous and 
very often hurtful, to attack personal character.' I returned again 
to Greenside with my former company. Here 1 slumbered away 
the night. 

" Jwne 30. — This morning was very fine, and, after breakfast, I 
set out with my friend Mr. Marr towards Auchmillan, a little ham- 
let about two miles from Mauchline. We reached Auchmillan, the 
dwelling place of Mr. Marr's father, about four o'clock in the after- 
noon. Here we were soon visited by Mr. Opaque ; he is designed 
for the ministry, and had a sermon in his pocket of his own manu- 
facturing. After some corporeal refection, I laid myself in bed, and 
Mr. Opaque began to read his sermon. It had a most somniferous 
influence on me ; but my friend insisted that I should prefer a ser- 
mon to a sleep. The sermon I suppose was meant to prove original 
sin ; but the truth was, the sermon was too profound for my ca- 
pacity. The reader seemed very much pleased with what he had 
Written. This was no more than natural ; for it is not more natu- 
ral for man to love the offspring of his body, than the offspring of 
his mind. But I took the liberty of judging for myself; and I think 
the sermon consisted of an introduction, three heads, and an appli- 
cation or conclusion. The introduction consisted of shadowy irregu- 
larity ; the first head was darkness illustrated by obscurity ; the 
second, opacity explained by rayless blackness ; the third, perplexity 
illustrated by intricacy ; and the application was ' confusion worse 
confounded;' all of which compelled me to conclude, that the author 
was completely master of that happy knack of writing which re- 
quires not the drudgery of thinking. 

" After this drowsy sermon was ended, Mr. Opaque, my friend. 



l30 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and myself, went out to feast for a little on the descending day. 
Mr. Opaque made the profound observation, ' that it is very difficult 
to give a good description of the evening; although there are few 
that think so.' We entered a belt of firs, and it was immediately 
proposed that we should all three carve the initial letters of the 
names of our dearest beloved fair ones on some smooth tree. Mr. 
Opaque objected to this exposure. ' But what,' said we, ' can be 
better done for them, since the dear creatures are absent V Mr. 
Opaque was convinced, and we began seriously to the work of carv- 
ing. This piece of great affection being finished, I proposed that 
we should next carve our own names, making obeisance to the fair 
ones. This I spoke from the heart, for they were dear valuable 
letters to which I was to bow. No objection was made to this pro- 
posal ; for what will not a youth in love do 1 

'•' We now returned to the house and Mr. Opaque departed. Mr. 
Marr's father had come home during our absence from the house, 
and he now welcomed me to his dwelling by a cordial shake of the 
hand. This old man is well informed ; but his knowledge has not 
made him irreligious. By his practice he persuades powerfully to 
the fulfilment of the command : ' With all thy getting, get that wis- 
dom which will make thee wise unto salvation.* 

" In this place I find myself very comfortable, and from it I am to 
make my excursions for a few days. 

" SaObath, July 1. — This day I went with my friend to Mau- 
chline and heard a sermon. The preacher was not very profound ; 
but in all respects acquitted himself very much as becomes ' the 
messenger of peace to guilty men.' 

" Mr. Marr was requested to stay after sermon and superintend a 
Sabbath evening school. This gave me an opportunity of drinking 
tea with the preacher who had addressed us from the pulpit. He 
was modest in conversation, and was willing to be instructed as 
well as to instruct, a disposition not very frequent in clergymen. 
I heard the scholars of the Sabbath school examined ; they acquit- 
ted themselves tolerably. The mode of teaching was very good, but 
too laxly enforced. 

" Monday, Auchmillan, July 2. — The afternoon of this day I 
spent in reading and writing. After dinner I went out with my 
friend to enjoy the fine day, and to visit some of our neighbours. 

" Auchmillan, July 3.— This day I spent mostly within doors in 
reading, writing, and so on." 



STANZAS. 131 

STANZAS, 

TO MR. DAVID MARK AND FRIENDS. 

Friends ! deep in my bosom living, 

Every hour made dearer still, 
If I e'er, your trust deceiving, 

Fail you in your hour of ill ; 

On my sun-vexed temples never 

May the living zephyr blow ; 
Nor the glad-seen desert river, 

To my parch'd lips sweetly flow. 

Never may the lark of morrow 

Wake me to the breath of spring ; 
Nor Philomela's love-lorn sorrow, 

To my wakeful midnight sing. 

Never may the hawthorn's blossom 

Lead my evening path astray ; 
Ne'er the west's thought-courting bosom 

Feast my eye at close of day. 

May no friend, with heart-true sighing, 

O'er my grass-grown ashes weep ; 
No kindred bard, with sad notes dying, 

Lull my lonely ghost asleep, 

*' Wednesday, July 4. — In company with my friend, I left Auch- 
millan this morning for Catrine. We took dinner with Mr. Pol- 
!ok's father and mother; and then proceeded down the Ayr towards 
Haughholm. The scenery between Catrine and Haughholm is the 
most noble which the Water of Ayr exhibits. You have seen this 
place. I shall not, therefore, attempt to give you any description. 
The impression which the beauties of Haughholm made on my mind, 
prevented me from taking almost any rest till they had compelled 
me to compose a little piece, entitled an ' Interview with Ayr Water.' 



132 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

At Haughholm we spent the evening. Nothing can be more pleas- 
ant than the polite hospitality of this place. Here we enjoyed the 
night." 

The poet, at the solicitation of Miss Ingram, the 
host's fair daughter, wrote the following hnes dur- 
ing the evening : 

TO AGNES. 

One verse sweet Agnes from the muse besought, 
To give that verse the willing muses fought; 
Apollo's self, to end the tuneful fight, 
Wisely decreed that each one verse should write. 
Successive thus the praying sisters sung— 
Kind heaven defend the fair from every wrong ; 
Let rosy health with virtue still attend, 
Grant her, O heaven ! one all-unfailing friend ; 
Still may she drink of pleasure's purest streams, 
And gentlest angels prompt her golden dreams. 
Give her enough, unmixed with loveless care, 
Let whom she loves all manly virtues share ; 
O may they live, sleep, wake, in mutual love. 
And angels waft them to tiie climes above ! 

" Thursday, July 5. — This morning I opened my eyes again on 
all the beauties of the banks of Ayr. After breakfast, I set out with 
iny friend towards a farm-house about two miles from the Ayr. In 
the meantime we walked, over-arched with oak, and birch, and 
plane ; and serenaded by all the music of the banks of the Ayr, till 
we arrived at Barskimming, the seat of Lord Glenlee. All the 
property of this gentleman bears strong marks of taste ; and the 
nearer you approach his mansion, the more Conspicuous are these 
marks. Nature has provided him with a situation for a house of 
the most noble kind : and the grandeur and taste of the house add 
dignity to the place. I think Lord Glenlee's library the most beau- 
tiful place that I have seen, if we take into consideration the com- 
bination of nature and art. The library contains about twelve 
thousand vdumes. The carpet cost a hundred guineas. Every 



JOURNAL. 133, 

part of the interior is finished in the most elegant manner imagina- 
ble ; and three of the windows appear to overhang the Water of 
Ayr, which is here ornamented as much as large trees, lofty banks, 
and singing birds can do. 

From Barskimming we went to the farm just referred to. This farm, 
the property of Lord Glenlee, consists of about two hundred acres 
of excellent land. The dweUing-house is finished out in a style that 
does honour both to landlord and tenant. Every person about this 
house has the look of perseverance. The great wheel, , the ten- 
ant, is a complete farmer. You may have noticed the like in your 
time. He looks always Uke a man who has a great deal to think 
about, speaks very seldom, and scarcely ever smiles. So great is 
the dignified distance which he maintains towards all the members 
of his household, that even his own sons, who have arrived at ma- 
turity, dare scarcely ask him the smallest favour. No authoritative 
tone accompanies his orders : for he knows that his slightest com- 
mand will be punctually obeyed. He is quite civil to strangers ; but 
to them, as to all others, he has little to say. About the house, he 
often leans himself to a table, a chest of drawers, or a desk, and 
picks his teeth. 

" I have often wondered whether this still, important, and thought- 
ful behaviour of the big farmer, be natural or studied ; and I have 
at last drawn the conclusion, that it is the natural result of his sit- 
uation. The man who pays the rent of two or three hundred acres 
of good ground, must necessarily think some ; therefore he must not 
always speak. If a man preserves not some distance and dignity, 
servants will neither respect nor obey him ; and when a man has 
long been accustomed to do so towards servants, it is but natural 
that he should act in the same manner towards his two sons, when 
these sons occupy the working situation of farm-servants. Add to 
all this the natural importance of human nature, the desire which 
one part of it has to govern another, and you will not be surprised 
at the character of a big farmer. 

" After this time, Sir, my peregrinations have been either so barren 
of recordable facts, or I have been so lazy, or so much employed in 
writincr on other subjects, that I shall be compelled to conclude my 
account of them. I cannot do this, however, without certifying yoa 
that I have submitted, once voluntarily, to a severe infliction from a 
story of a famous story-teller of the west. From these story-tellers, 
I have been long accustomed to fly with great trepidation. But as 
12 



134 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the relator of this story was one of the most celebrated in all the 
self-complacent Ayrshire, I ventured to sacrifice my patience in fa- 
vour of my curiosity. 

" My dear friend, if ever you should fall in with a story-teller of 
this kind, which I pray may never be your lot, I beseech you fly from 
him as you would do from the plague. Let no curiosity prompt you 
to risk your patience. Let what I have suffered be a warning to 
you ; and let neither a mile of burning whins nor a boisterous river 
prevent your escape. " R. Pollok." 

The reader of this letter will not fail to be struck 
with the elegance and power with which the stu- 
dent wrote. His description of the contest between 
superstition and philosophy, of his visit to his un- 
cle's, of his cousins, of the widow and her daughter, 
of the library at Barskimming, of the sermon of 
Mr. Opaque, and of the big farmer, are perfect in 
their kind. They are models of that kind of com- 
position. His pen invested every object which he 
touched with interest and life. He was emphati- 
cally a creator both in prose and verse. 

It was on the Sabbath that Mr. Pollok visited 
Mauchline, and this no doubt accounts for his si- 
lence in his journal, concerning Burns the poet; 
who has ennolDled the town and surrounding country 
by the splendour of his genius. Mossgiel, the farm 
which his family occupied at the time he burst into 
public notice, is only about half a mile distant 
from it. On a pilgrimage to this place in 1824, we 
gazed on the field where the "Mountain Daisy" 
grew, visited the house which was the scene of 
*' the Jolly Beggars," and the venerable old Kirk of 
the " Holy Fair." In the grave-yard we deciphered 



OMISSION. 135 

on the moss-grown stones, the names of the " Rev. 
Mr. Auld," "Nanse Tinnoch," and other person- 
ages, to whom his muse has given a world-wide 
fame. Indeed the plots of very many of his earlier 
poems are laid in that locality. 

It is strange why the author of " the Tales of the 
Covenanters" in such a journey, should make no 
allusion to George Wishart, the celebrated martyr; 
inasmuch, as he must have passed the field near 
Mauchline, where that holy man preached a re- 
markable sermon in 1544, at which Laurence Ran- 
kene, the Laird of Schaw, the most wicked man in 
that country, and others, were converted. It was a 
Pentecostal season to many souls. Nor does he make 
any allusion in his description of Barskimming, to 
Adam Reid, whose wonderful answers before King 
James the IV. and his great council in 1492, con- 
founded and turned into ridicule the bishop and his 
accusers. 

The following letter shows that it was written 
immediately on his arrival at his father's house from 
this tour. It is to his brother David who spent the 
summer in Glasgow. 

" Moorhouse, last Saturday of July ^ 1821, 
" Dear Brother, — I am just arrived at Moorhouse. I left our 
uncle David about three hours ago ; and received what I fear shall 
be the last injunction which I shall ever receive from him. Yester- 
day he was unable to sit out of bed ; and this day he is still weaker. 
He is wearing away with resigned dignity. Although his faith, 
as I heard him say, is perhaps, not that of ' full assurance,' yet 
with humble resignation and hopeful confidence he can say, tliat 
though his God ' slay' him, he ' will trust in him' — that he shall be 
' more than a conqueror through him that loved him.' How solemn, 



136 LIFE OF POLLOK, 

how affectionate, were his admonitions to me! and you know with 
what feelings I left him. Never did Young's inttrrogative asser- 
tion strike so deeply into my mind — 

' What is time vvortii ? ask death- beds, they can tell.' 

" I cannot detail, for I am wearied to-night. I have written a few 
things wnich you will see when you come to Moorhouse Good 
night. "R. PoLLOK." 

The next letter which has been preserved was 
written from his uncle's house, where he had gone 
again to see him once more in the flesh. 

" Horsehill, August 14, 1821, 

" Dear Borther, — At this moment my uncle is nearly in the 
same state as when you saw him, only his strength has decayed a 
little. He still enjoys the same noble tranquillity of mind, and the 
same resignation to the will of his Creator. His mind seems to be 
more spiritually enhghtened than when I formerly saw him. As 
he advances nearer the promised land, his soul glows with brighter 
prospects of it. That eternal 'rest' which awaits the righteous, 
seems already to have embraced his soul ; and bidding adieu to the 
mazes of doubt, and the damps of unbelief, his countenance is al- 
ready brightening to the glorious welcome of his Father, — ' Well 
done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy 
Lord.' Truly ' the end' of the righteous man ' is peace.' 

" This afternoon I am going to Greenside where I expect to meet 

Miss , together with my cousin R. Pollok, who is at present 

in Ayrshire, It is probable that I may gather something of im- 
portance from a meeting of such illustrious personages. Let the 
king, poor man, enjoy his courts and levees about Dublin. [The 
reigning monarch was at that time in Ireland.] 

'•I have not yet spoken to my uncle about leaving Horsehill ; but 
it is likely, if he oppose it not considerably, that I shall return to 
Moorhouse on or before Saturday, first, 

" R. Pollok." 

On the 11th day of September, his maternal un- 



LETTER. 137 

cle, David Dickie, entered into his rest. A man 
whose terse language, and high-toned mental and 
moral nature had much to do in giving a bias to the 
forming mind of his immortal nephew. 

There is one other letter written by him about 
that time, which is worthy of a place in his biog- 
raphy, on account of the ardour of friendship and 
frankness of expression which it exhibits. It was 
written to his cousin, Robert Poll ok, while on a 
visit to his brother at Glasgow. 

" Glasgow, October 19, 1821. 

" My dear Friend, — I am sitting this moment in my room No. 20 
Portland street. I arrived just a few minutes ago. You see I have 
got the lamp lighted, for David is not in. I see some letters lying on 
the table, addressed to thee. ' Well,' said I to myself, ' thou shalt 
soon receive them.' 

" Fortune has not trampled me so much to-day as her custom is ; 
although I fear she has indulged me vvith prosperous gales, that she 
may afterwards the more effectually dash me on her horrid shelves 
and quicksands. But why should I fear her^ She cannot take 
back what she has given, for I have enjoyed it already; and though 
she should pursue me with all her storms behind, and meet me with 
all her breakers before, she can only empty my pocket ; but what 
of thatl while I have a friend and a heart to love a friend. Let 
virtue be our guide — let unbending rectitude characterize all our ac- 
tions ; and if we have moments of sorrow, we shall also have mo- 
ments of joy. Let the stinted souls, if souls they can be called, that 
never felt the weight of an empty pocket, Unger out their insipid 
lives ; a wave never embroiled the smooth surface of their fate ; and 
envy them not. 



'No the wild bliss of nature needs alloy. 
And fear and sorrow fan the tire of joy.' 



" Thine 

" R. POLLOK. 

12* 



138 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

All that is preserved of his productions during 
the summer vacation, is only as a fraction to a 
large integer. His mind appears to have been a 
laboratory in which thoughts were continually be- 
ing forged; indeed all that is left of his labours are 
only " a few sere and yellow leaves." 



CHAPTER VI. 



Philosophy the reason led 



Deep through the outward circumstance of things , 
And saw the master wheels of nature move ; 
And travelled far along the endless line 
Of certain, and of probable." 

In November, 1821, Mr. Pollok entered on the 
last session of his Hterary course. It was usual 
in Glasgow to attend the Natural Philosophy and 
Mathematical classes last, an arrangement of per- 
haps questionable propriety. It was impossible for 
the student to give the same attention to them 
which he gave to the previous classes. Mr. Pollok 
had devoted four sessions to Latin, Greek, Logic, 
and Moral Philosophy ; and now he had only one 
to give to the most comprehensive and abstruse 
sciences. 

Whether it was that the Moral Philosophy class 
rather adumbrated the others, on account of the 
great men Drs. Hutchison, Adam Smith and Thomas 
Reid, who had all filled the chair during the preced- 
ing century ; or that the Scottish mind was m.ore 
disposed for metaphysical investigations ; or that the 
Professors of Natural Philosophy and Mathematics 
had not been able to throw a popular spirit into their 
lectures, and yet Professors Meikleham and Miller 
were eminent in their departments, it is difficult to 



140 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

affirm : this, however, is certain, that during Mr. 
Pollok's time these classes had not the interest and 
importance attached to them which has been since. 
The fame of Dr. Robert Simpson, the able editor of 
Euclid, and of James Watt, who had just died, was 
yet in abeyance in the University. 

Since the induction of Dr. James Thompson to 
the Mathematical chair in 1832, a different state of 
things has existed. He gave a new impulse to the 
study of Mathematics in Scotland. Perhaps no 
man living can give a greater epic interest to dem- 
onstrations. He invests Geometry and the Calcu- 
lus with the very spirit of poesy. His Lectures 
and works, published during his connection with the 
College of Belfast, Ireland, have given a prominence 
to the science throughout the whole province of 
Ulster. His system of Arithmetic is a desideratum 
in Great Britain, and a standard work in the Irish 
schools. 

The Andersonian Institution, which was estab- 
lished in Glasgow in 1823, immediately after Mr. 
Pollok graduated, did much to promote the study of 
Natural Philosophy and Chemistry. The names of 
Drs. Thomson of the University, and Ure of the 
Institution, in the department of Chemistry, have a 
world-wide celebrity. Dr. J. Nichol, in the astro- 
nomical field, has also added greatly to the repu- 
tation of the University. If the facilities in these 
sciences had been as great in the days of Mr. Pol- 
lok, his interest in them would have been corres- 
pondent to that in the other branches of his course. 



REVIEW OF THE COUKSE. 141 

The statutes of the University require all students 
belonging to the kingdom of Scotland, to attend 
four sessions before obtaining the degree of Arts. 
Those resident out of the kingdom may offer them- 
selves as candidates after three sessions. The ex- 
aminations for the degrees of Bachelor and Master 
of Arts commence in March ; and, as there are 
three grades of eminence for the Master's degree, 
these examinations are thorough and extending to 
the whole studies comprised in the Curriculum. 

As soon as the Poet had fairly entered on the du- 
ties of the session, he commenced to review the 
studies of the four preceding sessions. His brother 
David, and friend Mr. Marr, joined him in this lat- 
ter exercise. The Christmas holidays were devoted 
exclusively to this reviewing process. They read 
during that time, the Latin and Greek classics al- 
most without cessation ; and, from the testimony of 
David, it appears that Robert was continually urg- 
ing them on to read more hours ; and that, in com- 
pliance with this solicitation, they were frequently 
ready to fall off their chairs from perfect exhaustion. 

In one brief month after the opening of the ses- 
sion, the most gifted student in the University, 
William Friend Durant, died of fever. He was a 
member of the same classes with the Poet, and had 
been his fellow-student for years. He had taken 
the highest place as a scholar in every preceding 
class. His Memoirs, written by his father, an Eng- 
lish congregational clergyman, contain many of the 
memorials of his intellect and heart. His Prize 



142 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Essay " On the Tribunical Power among the Ro- 
mans," is a wonderful production for a youth of six- 
teen. He was eminent in Philology, Belles-lettres, 
Logic and Philosophy. He was more than all this. 
He was pious — religion was the mightiest elemeni 
of his greatness. His death cast a gloom over the 
University. The students prepared a suitable ad- 
dress on the occasion to his father, who did not 
arrive in time to close the dying eyes of his only 
child. It was a beautiful and tender letter of con- 
dolence. Poliok was not only a mover in this mat- 
ter, but wrote an elegant monody, which was pub- 
lished anonymously. The unguarded and injudi- 
cious criticisms on it, which were made in his hear- 
ing by a student, led him to write some fifty lines on 
Envy ; the substance of which is incorporated into 
his graphic description of that passion, in the Eighth 
Book of " The'Course of Time." 

It is an interesting foct, that the Poet, in the 
midst of his devotion to literature, did not overlook 
the importance of even family religion. It was his 
custom to unite with the family where he lodged, 
in the morning and evening sacrifice. Nay, he and 
his brother and Mr. Marr conducted the services 
by turns during this session. Now there is in this 
incident much to comfort the pious heart ; much, 
too, which hallows the memory of the departed bard. 
It would be well if the pen of history could write 
such a eulogy concerning every literary student. 
*' They that wait on the Lord shall renew their 



CONVERSATIONAL TALENT. 143 

strength," " the righteous shall be in everlasting re- 
membrance." 

There are but few great and gifted minds which 
are eloquent in conversation. But here Mr. PoUok 
was another Coleridge. His knowledge was exten- 
sive and varied, and he could pour it forth at will. 
His style on those occasions was like polished and 
beautiful vases, or Pentelican statuary. His views, 
too, on every subject were original, the ideas falling 
around him like showers of many-coloured stars. 
He charmed every circle into which he entered, 
when the afflatus was present. During this last 
session, he is said to have been extremely felicitous 
as a talker. Nor was he ever more eloquent than 
when discoursing about Philosophy and Religion. 
The union of the two was a favourite topic. He 
often said the mind which should marry them would 
confer an incalculable blessing on man. The same 
idea is beautifully expressed in one of Coleridge's 
letters, which was written in the fall of 1819. 
These are the words : — " There is one department 
of knowledge, which, like an ample palace, contains 
within itself mansions for every other knowledge ; 
which deepens and extends the interest of every 
other, gives it new charms and additional purpose ; 
the study of which, rightly and liberally pursued, is 
beyond any other entertaining, beyond all others 
tends at once to tranquillize and enliven, to keep 
the mind elevated and steadfast, the heart humble 
and tender : it is Biblical theology — the philosophy 
of religion, the religion of philosophy." 



•144 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

At the commencement of this fifth and last ses- 
sion, a number of the students in the Natural Phi- 
losophy and Mathematical classes, on the Poet's sug- 
gestion, formed a society for mutual improvement ; 
which met weekly in a school-room near the Uni- 
versity. It was made the duty of each member in 
turn to read an essay at the opening of the meeting, 
which should be the subject of discussion. The 
following one read by Mr. Pollok, is remarkable for 
correctness of sentiment as well as diversified know- 
ledge and scholarship. It is without a name in his 
manuscript ; yet it is a clear vindication of the posi- 
tion, that the realms of thought are still unexplored. 

Glasgmo, December 14, 1821. 

"Nor hoarse nor mute, though fallen on evil days, 
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues." 

*' It has been long the murmur of those who are too indolent for 
exertion, and of those who have exerted themselves without suc- 
cess, that all has been already acted on the theatre of literature 
which can inform the understanding, warm the heart, or amuse the 
imagination. Our early forefathers stood on the earth, looked round 
them, and beheld every thing new and attractive. The wide har- 
vest of material and spiritual nature waved ten thousand beauties 
to every eye, and offered as many lessons to every understanding. 
No sickle had been thrust into it. The temptation was irresistible. 
To reap it down became the luxurious employment of every man 
of talent; and, indeed, to every one there was enough, and to spare. 
Homer cast his comprehensive and sublimating eye over the rich 
fields, and appropriated to his own use many a noble shock. The 
author of the Book of Job, King David, Isaiah, and the other Jew- 
ish poets, had their abundant share. The three great tragic poets 
of the Greeks found sufficient left to them in their days ; and Pin- 
dar, Herodotus, Plato, and Xenophon, had no reason to complttin. 
Even behind the Jews and Grecians many handfuls lay scattered 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 145 

for succeeding generations. At this period Roman genius appeared, 
gathered in the unclaimed residue, and, far from being satisfied, 
spent many of its later years in ransacking aud rifling the copious 
stores of former ages. After the declension of the Roman Empire, 
the labourers in the fields of Uterature were the ItaUans, the French, 
and the English ; and they, Uke Mephibosheth with King David, 
ate and drank wholly at the table of the ancients ; and for a century 
or two every one seemed to rise satisfied from the repast. By sim- 
plifying or compounding what was before them, the dexterous had 
sometimes the address to give to the old the relish of novelty. Tasso, 
Corneille, Spenser, Milton, and Shakspeare, with all the men of 
genius who lived during the two centuries last past, were among the 
number who possessed the happy art of sprinkfing the old with the 
relish of the new. They neither starved themselves, therefore, nor 
suffered their households to perish. But, alas, in what evil days 
and barren seasons have we been ushered into life ! Not a solitary 
spike rewards the toils of the hungry gleaner. No new assortment 
or combination can be made to satisfy the mental appetite. The 
world is left to us desolate. We must either humbly Uve on the 
bounties of our ancestors, or hunger away our feeble days in drowsy 
indolence. Such is the sleepy moan of the sons of sloth, and the 
bitter cry of little critics. 

" With whatever neglect or contempt the man who has long ex- 
ercised his talents for his own good and the pleasure of his fellow 
creatures, may hear these sluggish murmurs, yet it must be ac- 
knowledged that they have sometimes quenched the fire of youthful 
genius, or, at least, shrouded it for a while from the eyes of man- 
kind. When the youth, whose strong intellectual capacity fits him 
for contributing to the stored of mental provision, hears repeatedly 
told what mighty men Uved in former ages — that this and that man 
of overwhelming name has been before him, and written of every 
thing — that the single Stagyrite, of matchless mind, wrote on almost 
every subject with which men are conversant — is not the youth 
likely to start back from the hallowed ground, and curse the very 
thought which had almost brought him into comparison where he 
would have lost so muchl I do not suppose that this magnify- 
ing of antiquity will awe into silence the itching scribbler, or finally 
check the progress of that spirit which has been taught by its Maker 
to trust more its own observations on the past and present, than 
13 



146 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the report of all the living ; yet fear may, for a season, enfeeble ha 
energy or diminish its lustre, 

" The best way of banishing fear is to remove the object of terror. 
In regard to the philosopher, the historian, and the moralist, the 
removing of this object of dread will be no difficult task ; nor will 
many of its terrors remain when the poet approaches it. 

" The youth, who finds his lot has destined his temporal existence 
to the nineteenth century, and granted him, at the same time, a pa- 
tient and vigorous philosophical spirit, will soon discover that he has 
nothing to fear from the lateness of his arrival, or the labours and 
renown of his ancestors. He may yet benefit society, and encircle 
his temples with unfading laurels. If he is captivated with the 
philosophy of mind, the object of his desire remains still in compar- 
ative darkness. Aristotle said much about the soul, but he said lit- 
tle that was intelligible. Many centuries after him were quibbled 
away in endeavouring to explain what had, perhaps, never any 
meaning. Heaven, in mercy to mankind, sent Bacon ; and, since 
his time, the powers and operations of the human mind have been 
considerably unveiled. But the mind is even to-day seen with the 
shadowy uncertainty of a distant object in the twilight. One phi- 
losopher distinguishes the mind into a great many independent orig- 
inal powers. Another, more sparing of his divisions, contents him- 
self with three or four. One draws a laborious line of demarcation 
between the dominions of reason and passion, housing the first in 
the head and the second in the breast. To the former, he ascribes 
all the more cool, hesitating, and noble actions of man ; to the latter, 
together with a host of animal and mechanical principles, he as- 
signs all his more precipitate, stupid, and foolish actions. Another 
philosopher gives reason the credit of- all human exertion, and in- 
forms his readers, that were reason never seduced by circumstances, 
all the vehemence and rage of what is generally termed passion, 
would never be able to urge a human being into a single foolish 
deed. Mental philosophers are at no less variance about liberty 
and necessity, as well as the standard of moral rectitude ; and even 
the limits of virtue and vice are hut ill defined. When opinions are 
so various, and judgments so contradictory, there is room to doubt 
that the truth has not yet been unveiled. Here, then, is a field, 
where the philosophic mind may exert all its energies ; and, if it 
is successful, the importance of the truths discovered will secure an 
abundant and lasting reward. Who would not cherish the memory 



ESSAV ON ORIGINALITY. 147 

of that man as a benefactor to his race, who had so satisfactorily 
ascertained the powers and operations of the mind ; the distinction 
or identity of reason and passion ; the springs of action ; the stand- 
ard of virtue, and the hmit, in all cases, between virtue and vice ; 
— that on all these interesting subjects no diversity of opinion ex- 
isted ; and that, as soon as the youth began to inquire into mind, 
his instructor might be able to prove to him the truth on all these 
topics as clearly and irrefragably as the natural philosopher can de- 
monstrate that all the interior angles of any triangle are equal to 
two right angles 1 Every one, I say, who brings man a step, or 
prepares him for taking a step, nearer this noble purpose, sheds 
another beam of light on the human race, and deserves their lasting 
gratitude. Nor is it to be supposed, after all present difficulties in 
regard to mind are cleared away, that the mental philosopher will 
be born in vain. New light will discover new fields and new im- 
perfections. These will demand the energies of genius to explore, 
clear, and cultivate. Perfection seems not to be designed for earthly 
man. Although the present generation should display all that 
seems at this moment dark, in mind, the next would have as much 
to explain, and the explanation of it would, perhaps, be as desir- 
able and useful. 

" If the youth of genius is fascinated with the majestic charms 
of natural philosophy, the fields which have been but partially vis- 
ited, and the wilds where never trode the foot of man, are numer- 
ous and widely extended. Within the last century, the steady 
progress of natural science encourages greatly the efforts of inves- 
tigation. Pythagoras first gave the hint that the sun is the centre 
of the solar system ; Copernicus renewed and published the opinion ; 
and Galileo enlarged the means of proof But it was not till the 
great Sir Isaac Newton shone on earth, that the properties of the 
rays of Hght, and the all-commanding influences of gravitation, 
were disclosed to the minds of mortals. At that illustrious era, the 
veil vi^as removed from the face of the heavens, and the arm of the 
Almighty was seen actuating, sustaining, and regulating the harmo- 
nious revolutions of countless worlds. Earth was no longer con- 
ceived to be a sedentary prisoner, fettered to some point of space, 
but contemplated with all her mountains, seas, and shaggy forests, 
wheeling round the central fire — accomplishing, by her own motion, 
the succession of day and night, and the vicissitude of seasons, and 
joining the planetary symphonies in praise to Him who made and 



148 LIFE OF rOLLOK. 

who guides the whole. After all, how little is known of material 
creation ! The further we advance, the wider the prospects, and the 
more numerous the objects, to attract attention and exercise inge- 
nuity. The invention of the telescope has shown us enough of 
other worlds to excite a desire of better acquaintance. And may 
not the perspicacity and exertion of genius, by modifying and com- 
bining matter, so invigorate the telescopic eye, that not only the 
bodies which compose our system shall be made fully to disclose 
their properties, uses, and inhabitants, but even the fixed stars shall 
in vain seek the far back recesses of space, to elude human inves- 
tigation 1 The invention of the telescope at all, was little expected a 
thousand years ago. In like manner, the improvement of the mi- 
croscope may yet disclose properties of matter which we are, at 
present, unable to conceive. The chemist, botanist, mineralogist, 
and anatomist, have done much to increase the enjoyments of man- 
kind. But in their dominions there is yet much doubtful, much 
wanting, and much to be removed. The external conveniences of 
life may be increased ; and the causes and seats of diseases, which 
have hitherto baffled the sagacity of physicians, and given over 
their victims untimely sacrifices to the unrecompensing grave, may 
be discovered ; from the hidden stores of nature, the victorious med- 
icine may be extracted, and the goodly human frame may yet smile 
at the menaces of a disease which, at present, inevitably crushes it to 
dust. In every part of nature the harvest is plenteous, but the la- 
bourers have been few. Whoever, therefore, feels the spirit of in- 
vestigation vigorous within him, has sufficient on which to expend 
all its energies; and that without loading the lower bibliothecal 
shelves with prodigious but undisturbed folios, on the essence of the 
human mind, animal spirits, vibratory nerves, elastic ether, the in- 
finite divisibility of matter, or its ultimate particles, 

" Room for the talents of the historian was never more uncon- 
fined. It is the province of the historian to record the transactions 
of mankind — to display the dark places of politics — describe the 
characters of eminent individuals, and the strong biases and gene- 
ral dispositions of nations ; to delineate the various appearances of 
the globe — its inhabitants, rational and irrational — its climates and 
productions, and to do all this so as to please and instruct his own 
and future generations. And at what period of past ages was the 
demand for faculties to accomplish this purpose more urgent than it 
is at this moment 1 Has not the face of Europe, during these 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 149 

twenty years last past, been every day agitated with transactions 
peculiarly fitted to blazon the page of history, and instruct posterity"? 
If a mortal should happen to make his appearance in this age, with 
the profound penetration of Tacitus or Hume, the narrative pow- 
ers of Livy, and the character-drawing talents of Sallust, he may 
congratulate himself on having arrived at a period when all his 
abihties may be largely exerted in benefiting his fellow-creatures, 
and gathering honour to himself. It will recjuire all his penetra- 
tion to unravel the complicated and heavy pohvty of Europe, weary 
all his rapidity and skill of narration to record the number and 
magnitude of events, and exhaust all his vigour and versatility of 
description to display the greatness and variety of character. All 
the past is, in some degree, the property of the historian. If his 
ancestors have missed any thing worthy of remembrance, or left 
any thing in dubious circumstances, by recording the first and cer- 
tifying the latter, he confers a benefit on the world. The want of a 
complete history of Scotland testifies that the historian has no rea- 
son to deplore want of employment, but that Scotland has cause to 
lament she has produced so few historians. In short, at whatever 
watch the man possessed of historical talents ushers into life, he 
can never want room for their exertion. The mazy wheels of em- 
pire never cease their rapid revolution. Fortune casts the joyous 
beams of liberty on one nation, and obscures another with the 
heavy and melancholy clouds of oppression. The lowly ambitious 
are ever racking their murderous jaws to devour their brethren ; 
and the patriotic soul will still nobly labour to snatch the unlawful 
prey from the Polyphemian mouth, and starve the monster to death. 
Every sun that rises reveals to men something formerly unnoticed 
among the multitude of things; some portion of the globe previously 
unexplored ; some mineral which, till then, was never dragged from 
its dark recess ; or some herb which had hitherto looked up in vain 
to attract the eye of man • and all these discoveries call for the pow- 
ers of the historian, to marshal and array them for the review of 
every succeeding generation. 

" The moralist, or the philosopher of morals, can never appeeir 
on the coast of life unseasonably. True, man has been often told, 
that obedience and love to his Maker, justice, and benevolence, and 
gentleness to his fellow-creatures, and temperance, prudence, and 
fortitude, exercised in regard to himself, secure his honour and hap- 
piness in every stage of existence ; and that a conduct the reverse 
13* 



150 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ultimately covers him with shame, and casts his naked soul into the 
weltering lake of fire, where Remorse forever hisses and Despair 
forever howls. Noah, Job, and Solomon, Seneca, Hall, Young, Ad- 
dison, and Johnson, have all taught that wisdom excelleth folly as 
far as light excelleth darkness ; that he who does most good is the 
happiest ; and that he who perpetrates the most evil is the most 
miserable. These great men, and others of kindred genius, had 
their effect, in their own times, in sobering the folly and humanizing 
the barbarism of the stout-hearted sons of Adam, And, in our day, 
the influences of their preaching continue to persuade the simple 
from the inheritance of folly. But every age has its peculiar eccen- 
tricities in vice, its ill-will at some particular virtue. In one age, folly 
puts forth his uncouth branches, where, at another period, not a 
sprout was seen. Our eyes are not now feasted, as the Romans on 
the arena, with the potent struggle of the two lords of the Creation 
— the man and the Hon. But, then, we more unnaturally banquet 
on the gashed features and bloody breast of the pugilist ; and our 
ears are still soothed with the dying groan of the mortal dueller. 
We have now no Puttenham, that I know of, giving rules to poets 
how to hammer their poetical brains into the shape of eggs, turbots, 
fusees, and lozenges. The alliteration of the sixteenth century, and 
the euphuism of Lilly, have brawled and mewled themselves into 
long, lasting, Lethean repose. But, then, we have still critics, whose 
addle brains and stony hearts would quench the unquenchable fire 
of a Kirke White : we have still poets more dear to sound than 
sense; and rhymers who make the woods of Maderia tremble and 
shudder more at the kiss of two lovers, than at the full discharge of 
the thunder of Omnipotence. 

" Wisdom, like the natural food of man, calls for a long and as- 
siduous culture ; but folly, like the mushroom, springs up in a night, 
and spontaneously luxuriates to its motley perfection. Although 
every germ of folly, which lifts its head above the surface to-day, 
were cut down, a new harvest of tares would cover the fields to- 
morrow. Every moment, therefore, calls for the moralist, with his 
sickle in his hand, to cut down these cumberers of the ground. Sa- 
tire has always been in use among moralists ; and, perhaps no 
weapon is fitter for lopping off the little oddities of men. But every 
age has need of its satirists. The fools of this age turn themselves 
away from the whetted edge on which their brethren of the last gen- 
eration fell. It requires a skilful moral warrior ever at hand, there- 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 151 

fore, to draw folly from all its lurking-places, meet it in all its ram- 
bling and blustering manoeuvres, surprise it in all its strong fortresses, 
and direct the sword of truth home to its breast. 

" Let the philosopher of morals arrive when he may, only let him 
take his seat high on the imperishable battlements of virtue, and 
cast his comprehensive eye down on the vast changing world below 
— let him observe its windings and shadings, the noise, the hurry, 
and the jostling — let him glance deep into the workings of the hu- 
man heart, and examine the state of pride and envy, hatred and 
fear, of love, joy, compassion, and hope, which inhabit there — and 
he will hear duty calling him to Uft up his voice, and teach the peo- 
ple knowledge. He will see a thousand festering vices to eradicate 
and a thousand languishing virtues to cherish and invigorate. Nor 
shall understanding put forth her voice in vain : ' The words of the 
wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assem- 
blies.' Where, then, is the moralist of the nineteenth century 1 Let 
him not think he is cast on a desert, or gifted with powers only to 
inform him that he has nothing to employ them w^ith. At what- 
ever time the gardener enters his garden, he sees some presumptuous 
branch to be lopped off, some feeble plant to be supported, some 
sickly flower to be watered, or some insolent weed to be eradicated. 
So, at whatever hour the moralist looks abroad on the human fam- 
ily, he sees some strong vice to be torn up ; some oddity in dress, in 
speech, in food, or in amusement, to be reprimanded or ridiculed out 
of countenance ; some latent virtue to cherish and commend ; some 
truth to display and enforce. The wiser and more numerous the 
writers on morality and decorum are, the more vigorous and exten- 
sive will be the spread of humanity and goodness. And happiness 
is the fruit of goodness, and always in proportion to it. To the 
man of talent innumerable modes of rendering virtue attractive, and 
powerful to convince, will occur. She may hover on the wings of 
fancy, and suddenly alight on the wandering mind. She may bor- 
row the garb of fable, or steal into the heart through a vision of 
the night. She may look with a countenance all mercy and beauty 
and allure us by the purity and harmony of her charms ; or she may 
gather her face into a frown, brandish the sword of justice in her 
hand, and prostrate the proud heart by the terrors of her wrath. 
The following from Solomon may be considered a beautiful allusion 
to the various ways in which virtue may be enforced :— ' Doth not 
wisdom cry, and understanding put forth |ier voice 1 She standeth 



152 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

in the top of the high places, by the way in the places of the paths. 
She crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at 
the doors.' 

" If there be yet a plentiful harvest inviting the philosopher, the 
historian, and the moralist, and promising them a rich reward, are 
there not also subjects of song and immortal wreaths tempting the 
poet to take hold of the harp, and fling his tender hand across the 
strings of harmony 1 The early poets, it is said, have taken pos- 
session of the most striking objects of nature, and their works are, 
therefore, more vigorous and sublime than those of later bards. 
Whether this long-received opinion may not be rather imaginary 
than real, there is room for dou!)t. Poets were posting themselves 
in the strong places of nature during thousands of years anterior to 
Milton ; and yet, without copying the images or thoughts of his 
predecessors, he confounds us with a vastness and sublimity of idea 
and comparison, before which almost every former poet must veil his 
head as the stars at the approach of the sun. Homer's heroes fling 
from their hands stones which two men, in the late ages of degen- 
eracy, could not lift. Milton's heroe's take the mountain by its piny 
tops, and toss it against the enemy. At the name of Shakspeare, 
the bards of other years fall down in deep prostration, and abjure 
the name of poet. In strength of expression, these two archangels 
in poetry stand aloft, like the star-neighbouring TenerifTe among 
the little islands that float on the Atlantic surge. If the verse of 
Milton be less melodious than that of Homer and Virgil, it is be- 
cause the language in which he wrote was unsusceptible of equal 
harmony. In like manner, were we to compare the lyric poets of 
modern Europe with those she produced in ancient days, the com- 
parison would not be so unfavourable to our own times as has 
been often imagined. 

" But were we to confine the comparison to the poets of one na- 
tion — were we to compare the early English poets with those of our 
own time, it has been often said we would lose by the comparison. 
* The early poet lays hold of the most magnificent objects of his own 
country, and leaves to those who come after him in the same na- 
tion the more feeble images of beauty and elegance !' Excepting 
a very few of the early English poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, 
Shakspeare and Milton — which two last, by the bye, can scarcely 
be called early poets— generally speaking, it must be admitted that 
our primitive bards have irregularity, wildness, and extravagancje 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 153 

on their side ; and, with these accomplishments, they fail not to at- 
tract numerous admirers. But is it not probable that many admire 
these qualities because they come down to them with a thousand 
mighty names vouching their excellence 1 But why did these men 
of intellectual might praise what is not now deserving praise 1 It 
may be easily answered, that the wise men in the ages when the 
early poets wrote, were pleased almost necessarily with what pleasec] 
the poets themselves. They had seen nothing better of the kind ; m 
unfavourable comparison could therefore be made. In the follow 
ing age there would be some who would think that wisdom perishet s 
with their fathers. These, seeing nothing worth commendation m 
their own time, would applaud what had been praised in the pre- 
ceding age. And these discontents might even have a name to live 
among the men of their day. They would, therefore, have xbllow- 
ers in every succeeding age, till the list would become so numerously 
respectable, that for one to refuse to add his name to it would be 
taken as a proof of his want of taste, or, perhaps, of his total des- 
titution of common sense. Thus every one who believes in the re- 
port of those who have gone before him, and who dislikes the name 
of fool, opens the work of an early poet with the determination not 
to close it, till, in spite of his own judgment, he has seen perspi- 
cuity in darkness, graceful negligence in stiff debility, harmony in 
discord, and consistency in confusion. Nor must he quit the page 
till he has learned to keep his countenance at the lowest vulgarity, 
and most shameless obscenity, which he must persuade himself is 
no more than honest frankness. It is necessary, also, that he dis- 
cover the smoothness, beauty, elegance, and consistency of the mod- 
ern bard to be as unfit to unite with them grandeur and vigour, as 
the green withes of Gaza were unfit to bind the unshaven son of 
Monoah. What we determine to believe is believed on little evi- 
dence ; and the respective merits of the early and later poets of a 
nation are thus settled, 

" In extravagance, and boldness of metaphor and allegory, there 
is often, no doubt, much to be admired. And in our early poets 
these attractions are eminently conspicuous. Take an example 
from Langlande, a celebrated poet, and a contemporary of Chaucer. 
Langlande, in his ' Visions of Pierce Plowman, or Christian Life,' 
makes the power of grace confer upon Pierce Plowman four stout 
oxen to cultivate the field of truth ; these are Matthew, Mark, Luke, 
and John ; the last of whom is described as the gentlest of the team.. 



154 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

She afterwards assigns him the like number of stots or bullocks to 
harrow what the Evangelists had ploughed, and this new-horned 
team consists of Saint or Stot Ambrose, Stot Austin, Stot Gregory, 
and Stot Jerome. In another early English poet we find all the 
human intestines personified. With these and similar efforts of 
strength, the lovers of the bold are wonderfully regaled. 

" By these remarks I mean not to ridicule all or any one of the early 
British bards : they wrote with the skill and taste of their times. 
Chaucer and Spenser above their age ; and they will ever be dear 
to him who reads them with the feeling of a poet. Even in the 
works of the most perverse and absurd bards of the fourteenth, fif- 
teenth, and sixteenth centuries, many flowers lift their fair forms on 
the wide wastes of nonsensical extravagance. And I would rev- 
erence a spark of poetic fire should it glimmer through the crevices 
of the rubbish of a world. But, after all, I may be pardoned for in- 
dulging a smile at him, who, in the nineteenth century, with more 
knowledge, and better means for improving his taste, pretends to 
discover beauty in deformity and easy connection of parts in chaotic 
uproar. Poets could yet tune the harp to absurdity and extrava- 
gance, but who would listen 1 In the times of ignorance, nonsense 
was winked at. But in the day it is certainly a horrible perversity 
of taste to prefer the waxen apple, because, in the night, it felt as 
smoothly as the real fruit. 

■ (Quitting this unholy comparing of poets who have done all ac- 
cording to the gift received, it will be sufficient to know that they 
have left behind them subject of noblest song, and laurels of immor- 
tal verdure to crown him who may be so happy as to gain the favour 
of the coy sisters. And I think the very nature of poetry excludes 
the possibility of its subjects ever being exhausted. To please, to 
excite interest in existence, is the aim of poetry in general. By his 
success in this we ascertain the poet's merit, or the 'life of life 
which is in him.' If he warm the aifections, delight the imagina- 
tion, and awe the understanding ; and if the general tendency of 
his work be moral, it matters not whence he choose his subject, or 
by what means he attain his purpose. Other writers are confined 
by the boundaries of truth ; but the poet has the boundless regions 
of fancy before him. Nearly three thousand years ago. Homer 
reached forth his careless hand, and pulled, from the party-colored 
fields, many a fair flower. Since his time, many have made ex- 
cursions into the wild territories of imagination, and brought home 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 155 

with them abundant spoils. But her fields are rich as ever. The 
flowers which bloom there, though plucked to-night, will grow up 
ere to-morrow. Over the lav/ns of Fancy, Flora, with the rose and 
lily in her hand, tbrever walks ; while Zephyrus breathes soft Ufe 
on her cheek, and drops the dews of vegetation from his southern 
locks. 

It is not so much the subjects, however, for the employment of 
talent and genius, that are supposed to be exhausted, as the lan- 
guage for treating these subjects. Language, if we are to believe 
in the critics, has sold off absolutely without reserve. Before a critic 
can take a degree — that is, before he is licensed to condemn, if he 
pleases, all the productions of mind, of his own age at least — he 
must produce certificates that he has read all the books of note in 
the ancient Greek and Latin languages, and the few that are worth, 
reading in the tongues of modern Europe ; provided he can make 
affidavit, at the same time, that he understood none of them. Now, 
as soon as a man of genius gives a production to the world, all the 
critics, from the Pillars of Hercules to the mountains of Aura, more 
terrible than that 

' Pitchy cloud 
Of locusts 
That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung,' 

gather round the unwary stranger ; and, as long-fasted Arctic bears 
gore and devour the carcass of some hapless shipwrecked seaman, so 
the host of critics mangle and guzzle up the infant production ; and 
if, in ruminating — for their first feeding is so voracious, that relishes 
are all alike — they taste a phrase, figure or comparison, which they 
ever-chewed before, the author is immediately condemned as a thief 
or a robber ; and theoretic punishment, and sometimes practical, 
awarded according to the critical offence of the crime. Of the mod- 
ern poet, that figure or simile is traced to Homer, or to some other 
of the bards beyond the dark ages. Of the historian, this elegant 
mode of narration is brought down from the mouth of Livy, and 
that brief description warmed by the fiery energy of Tacitus. So 
far has this lust of finding every thing in the ancients driven some 
of our modern critics, that when no parallel to a modern passage 
tinder review can be wrung from the writings of antiquity, it is 
proved, at least by a critic's proof, that the same plan or style 
would liave been adopted by some ancient, had he had the same 



156 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

subject to treat. A very learned philological professor was heard 
to point out several passages in the historical works of Dr. Robert- 
son, in the writing of which, although no parallel exists to them in 
Livy, the Scotch historian saw how that illustrious Roman would 
have expressed himself, had he had occasion to handle the same 
subject. To perceive how Livy would have expressed himself on 
what he has left no specimen, and to know that Robertson first sup- 
posed how Livy would have done, and then copied the supposed 
manner, displays, no doubt, great perspicacity ; but the quick-sighted 
sometimes overlook the truth. Persian sibyls and ThessaUan sor- 
cerers pretended to see the shadows of coming events, which were 
never revealed to man ; and may not these, our retro-seers, have 
made some mistake in consulting the dark entrails of the past 1 
Certainly no historian has written with more success than Livy ; 
but when we are told how he would have done, what he never at- 
tempted, it reminds us of the fond mother who entertains us with an 
account of the many attractive graces and brilliant virtues which 
would have characterized her son, had he not died in the cradle. 
That the men of genius, who lived anterior to the snaky reign of 
syllogisms, have left to us, their posterity, a bequest of inexhaustible 
value, would be unjust as well as unnatural to deny. But this, in- 
stead of shallowing or enfeebling the current of language, deepens 
and invigorates it. Language, as has been said of Dryden's genius, 
is strengthened by action, and fertilized by production ! A writer, in 
the infancy of language, is like the savage, who, embarking with 
his little canoe near the mountainous source of a river, is continu- 
ally impeded and endangered by shallows, rocks, and cataracts ; 
while the author, writing in the maturity of speech, may be resem- 
bled to the sailor, who, after the river, deepened and widened by 
many a tributary stream, has left the shelvy mountain, and smoothed 
its rugged current into an even flow, launches his stately bark, 
and, neither arrested by shoals nor menaced by rapids, rides along 
with graceful dignity. Every one who writes well leaves an inher- 
itance to his successor, which will enable him to write better, if his 
natural talent equal that of his ancestor. Milton in his ' Paradisa 
Lost,' has availed himself of the idiom and manner of almost every 
language of note ; and, by this means, he often gives a dignity and 
harmony to his verse, which could not have been compassed by one 
situated less favourably for an acquaintance with language. Had 
the spirit of Chaucer entered our world posterior to Dryden, the 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 157 

author of the ' Canterbury Tales' would have displayed nis genius 
in happier shades, happy as they are. 

" But, says the critic, ' you must admit that allusions, figures, 
similes, and ideas are exhausted. We find the same ideas, figures, 
and so forth, in one author that we see in another. There is noth- 
ing but plagiarism going on now-a-days.' Nothing would be more 
surprising than not to find a similarity of idea, and even sometimes 
near coincidence of expression, in authors who write on the same 
or similar subjects, and in like circumstances. The ground which 
yielded wheat two thousand years ago, will yield it at this day if cul- 
tivated in the same manner ; and the wheat that waves on the mar- 
gin of the Thames, is not very unhke that which cheers the heart 
of the American husbandman. So what a Grecian thought, might 
be thought by another in the same age, though divided from the 
Greek by half the globe ; or the same thing may be thought by one 
placed in the Greek's circumstances, even now after Greece has 
ceased to think for two thousand years, 

'• Nor is it necessary that an author should copy figures or com- 
parisons, that they may be the same with those of prior writers. 
The same train of thinking will often lead to the same figures and 
similitudes. It was very customary with the ancient poets to com- 
pare the brave, proud, enraged warrior, rushing on his foe, to the 
angry lion taking vengeance on some rebel subject, or impelled by 
hunger to destroy. But we are not to suppose from this, that one 
o{ these poets copied another. The similarity of the warrior to the 
lion is a part of nature, and ahke the property of every one. What 
has been said of this comparison may be said of innumerable more. 
They are suggested by a similar train of thought to men in the 
same and in different ages. 

" As to the philosopher and historian, the searching and record- 
ing of truth is their chief aim ; and the best historians and plii- 
losophers are sparing of ornaments. Truth requires no trappings. 
But always, when a philosopher discovers a formerly-unknown 
truth, it will suggest something new for illustration, or some new 
shading of what has been used for illustration before ; and the com- 
parison of the historian will ever keep pace with the march of 
events. Every new transaction which is recorded by the historian, 
and every discovery which is made in science, gives another subject 
of allusion and illustration to the moralist and poet. How much 
have these two classes of writers availed themselves of the discov- 

14 



158 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

eries in astronomy 1 Every day the most beautiful allusions and 
comparisons are made, which could not be made at an earlier pe- 
riod. Milton compares the shield of Satan to the moon seen 
through the Tuscan glass ; but he could not have made the com- 
parison had he lived before Galileo. Nor could he have said, 



' the tallest pine 



Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast 
Of some great admiral ; were but a wand,' 

compared to the spear of the arch-fiend, had he lived at a time 
when the sound of the axe was never heard in the forests of Nor- 
way. It is needless to multiply examples. 

" That every simile used by the poet should be new, is not neces- 
sary. It is sufficient that he compare or describe from his own ob- 
servation ; and then his work will entertain. The same idea may 
be represented in a hundred dresses, and yet in all be pleasing. 

" The following quotations from some of the most eminent poets, 
descriptive of the sun's rising, will confirm what we have said. 

" ' The morning sun,' says the royal poet of Israel, ' is as a bride- 
groom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man 
to run a race !' 

" Homer sings : 

* H^'II [iiv KpOKOTTSTr'Kos £Ki6vaT0 TTaaav in aiav.^ 

Englished by Pope : 

' Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, 
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.' 

" And Virgil : 

' Oceanum interea surgens Aurora reliquit.' 

" And again : 

' Jamque rubescebat radiis mare, et aethere ab alto, 
Aurora in roseis fuigebat lutea bigis.' 

" George Peele, an old English poet, says : 

' As when the sun attired in glistering robe, 
Comes dancing from the oriental gate, 
And, bridegroom like, hurls throughout the gloomy air 
His radiant beams.' 

" In Sylvester, a poet prior to Milton, we have : 

* Arise betimes, while the opal-coloured morn, 
In golden pomp, doth May-day's door adorn.' 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 159 

'■' The Bard of Paradise sings : 

'Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime 
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl.' 

" And again : 

' Now morn, 



Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand, 
Unbarred the gates of light.' 

*' Parnell says : 

* At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, 
Along the wide canals, the zephyrs play ; 
Fresh o'er the gay parterre the breezes creep, 
And shake the neighbouring woods to banish sleep.' 

" Again : 

' But now the clouds in airy tumult fly ; 
The sun emerging opes an azure sky.' 

" Nor, after all this, is the variety of description exhausted. Listen 
to Thomson : 

'The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews, 
At first faint gleaming in the dappled east. 
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow, 
And from before the lustre of her face, 
White break the clouds away ; with quickened step, 
Brown night retires.' 

" And again the same Poet of the Year : 

'But yonder comes the joyous lord of day, 
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow, 
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach 
Betoken glad.' 

" Biirns, speaking of his Mary, tells us of his joy — 

' Till too, too soon the glowing west 
Proclaimed the speed of winged day.' 

" Here the critic would cry out, ' Where is the soul that would yet 
attempt to vary the description of the sun's morning approach V 
But does Henry Kirke White, though but a boy when he died, be- 
tray any folly in the following lines, when speaking, 1 think, of 
contemplation ? — 

'I will meet thee on the hill, 
Where with printless footstep still, 



160 LIFE OF POLLOK. 



The morning in her buskin gray 
Springs upon her eastern way.' 



" And again 



* Lo I on the eastern summit, clad in gray, 
Morn, like a horseman girt for travel, comes, 

And from his tower of mist, . 

Night's watchman hurries down.' 

" The following passages bring before the mind the most sublime 
of all ideas — the Almighty walking on the winds and tempests. 
*' The two immediately following are from the Psalms of David : 

' He bowed the heavens also, and came down ; and darkness was under his 
feet. And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly ; yea, he did fly upon the wings 
of the wind.' 

" Again: 

' Who niaketh the clouds his chariot ; who walketh upon the wings of the 
wind.' 

" Virgil in the ninth Book of the .^neid, says : 

'Quam multa grandine nimbi 
In vada praecipitant ; cum Jupiter, horridus austris, 
Torquet aquosam hiemen, et ccelo cava nubila rumpit.* 

" And Shakspeare: 

' Bestrides the lazy- paced clouds, 
And sails upon the bosom of the air." 

" Pope, giving us the same idea, says : 

' Not God alone in the still calm we find ; 
He mounts the storm, and rides upon the wind.' 

" And Addison : 

' Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm.' 

'* Thomson, speaking of the wintry uproar, says : 

' All nature reels ; till nature's King, who oft, 
Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, 
And on the wings of the careering wind, 
Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm; 
Then straight, air, sea, and earth, are hushed at once.' 

" Henry Kirke White shows that the description may be yet 
varied : 



ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 16.1 

* Stern on thy dark- wrought car of cloud and wind, 
Thou guid'st the northern storm at night's dead noon; 
Or on the red wing of the fierce monsoon, 
Disturb':st_the sleeping giant of the Ind.' 

" Again, he says: 

'God of the universe ! Almighty one ! 
Thou who dost walk upon the winged winds, 
Or with the storm, thy rugged charioteer, 
Swift and impetuous on the northern blast, 
Ridest from pole to pole.' 

" In his ' Clifton Grove,' the same youthful poet has the follow- 
ing, which, although it has been blamed, has in it one idea bolder 
than any which I have quoted : 

' Here would I run, a visionary boy, 
When the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky; 
And, fancy-led, beheld the Almighty's form. 
Sternly eareering in the eddying storm.' 

" In the subsequent passages, worth, which lingers out its days 
m obscurity, or excellence, cut off by untimely death, is compared 
to the desert flower which never smiles to the eye of man ; or to 
the early flower blasted by frost or tempest. Ossian, speaking of 
himself, sings : 

' Why did I not pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its 
fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on the blast ?' 

" Gray, lamenting the obscure fate of genius, says : 

'Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.' 

" And Ogilvie, speaking of retired innocence, has these verses : 

'The lily, screened from every ruder gale, 

Courts not the cultured spot where roses spring ; 
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale, 
And scents the zephyr's balmy-breathing wing.' 

" In the ' Scottish Probationer,' a lover, after telling of his mis- 
tress who died in all the bloom of youth and love, has these lines : 

'You've seen the lily's bosom spread. 
Pure as the mountain- drifted snaw, 

14* 



162 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

An' sighed to see its sickly head, 
Amang the leaves condemned to fa'.' 

" And Henry Kirke White, after singing of the vanity of youthful 
hope, says : 

'So in those shades the early primrose blows, 
Too soon deceived by suns and meltmg snows ; 
So falls untimely on the desert waste, 
It^ blossoms withering in the northern blast.' 

" The beauty of these passages will, I trust, apologize for their 
number, which might yet be greatly increased. And who that has 
a soul, which can expand to let in beauty, and grandeur, and sub- 
limity, would wish one of them blotted from the page of poetry 1 or 
who, that knows the power of a spirit warmed with celestial fire, 
will say that the ideas expressed in these passages, cannot be yet 
expressed so as to give a new, and a wider pleasure to the mind of 
man 7 The siccaneous critic, or the meagre scribbler, may hang 
down his little head in despair, and murmur out, that what can be 
done is done already. But he who has drunk of Castalia's fount, 
and listened to the mighty voice of the Parnassian Sisters ; who 
casts his bold eye on creation, inexhaustible as its Maker, and 
catches inspiration while he gazes ; will take the lyre in his hand, 
delight with new melody the ear of mortals, and write his name 
among the immortal in song." 

There are extant of the poet's labours during this 
session, eleven essays for the Natural Philosophy- 
class, each extending to at least four quarto pages. 
Besides nearly two hundred pages of notes taken 
from the Lectures as delivered by the Professors of 
Natural Philosophy and Mathematics, it is seldom 
that so many monuments of indefatigable industry 
are preserved of any student's college life. We are 
reminded by them of such men as Pascal, Chrichton, 
and Kirke White. 

It was during this arduous session of study that 
the poet changed his views regarding rhyme and 



PREFERS BLANK VERSE. 163 

blank verse. He had always, previous to this, as- 
serted his preference for the former as a vehicle 
for poetic thought. It is probable that his early 
study of Pope's " Essay on Man," and the writings of 
Dr. Samuel Johnson, had done much to foster this 
taste : but maturer reflection on the subject, as well 
as his facility in writing blank verse, led him ulti- 
mately to prefer it. It was fortunate for his ov/n 
fame, as well as for the pleasure and instruction of 
the present and unborn generations, that he formed 
such an intelligent judgment. What would " The 
Course of Time " have been, if written either in 
the Spenserian stanza or heroic verse ? 

It appears that his mind was not wholly occupied 
with the studies appertaining to the University dur- 
ing this important and closing session of his course, 
but actually found time to write several papers for 
a new periodical which he contemplated publishing 
in the city of Glasgow — a scheme which happily 
for himself was not undertaken. It may be that 
the success of the " Protestant," by Mr. Macgaven, 
a few years before, suggested the idea to him. His 
design, however, was to combine in the periodical, 
useful with pleasing information. The same idea 
has been ably and successfully carried out in the 
Chambers' "Edinburgh Journal." 

It is a remarkable fact, that during the five ses- 
sions of his University course, he only formed the 
acquaintance of one family in the city of Glasgow. 
He did not even make himself known to the Rev. 
Dr. Muter, whose church he regularly attended. 



164 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Nor was he on terms of close intimacy with many 
of the students. Indeed, the studious cannot find 
time for the exchange of those civihties which are 
common among those who hold time at a lower 
premium. It was the seed-time of his life ; nor 
could he ever have reaped such a harvest of glory, 
if he had not been eminently frugal of his hours. 
Here ends another epoch of his life ; one, too, in 
which he gathered the ore and jewels out of which 
was wrought the diadem of his fame. Little did the 
Professors of the University think, that there was 
one mind treasuring up and expanding by their pre- 
lections which would intwine an unfading laurel on 
the brow of Scotland. One, whose harp would do 
more for Scotland's Religion than that of all the na- 
tive bards who had preceded him. " The Psalms" 
of George Buchanan, Hislop's " Dream of the Mar- 
tyrs," Graham's " Sabbath," are sacred evergreens 
of the Scottish muse ; nay, there is many another 
holy canticle which is worthy of honourable men- 
tion in this place, but these are all branches and sin- 
gle leaves of song ; — it is to " The Course of Time " 
that our eyes turn, when allusion is made to a 
national religious poem. Tannahill, Burns, Scott, 
Campbell, and Wilson have filled many a bower of 
love with their minstrelsy ; but Pollok essayed to 
wake the harp of holy men of old ; and the music 
of his song has been felt through the Christian 
world. As we follow him throughout his literary 
course, we find him either in company with the 
great departed master-minds of time, or standing 



PORTRAITURE. 165 

amid the martyr haunts of Scotland communing 
with Heaven. Whatever position we take to look 
at him, he seems like an angel in the pursuit of 
knowledge ; and could we sketch with the pencil of 
a Raphael, we would give the outline of a human 
soul looking in through a rent veil, upon the unem- 
bodied mysteries which lie far within. Robert 
Pollok is a name dear to Scotland and the visible 
church= 



BOOK III 



HIS BIOGRAPHY FROM THE COMMEXCEMENT OF HIS THEOLOGI- 
CAL COURSE UP TO THE INCIDENT WHICH ORIGINATED 
" THE COURSE OF TIME." 



" He saw the distant tops of thought, 
Which men of common stature never saw, 
Greater than aught that largest words could hold, 
Or give idea of, to those who read. 
He entered into Nature's holy place. 
Her inner chamber, and beheld her face 
Unveiled ; and heard unutterable things, 
And incommunicable visions saw."— 



CHAPTER I. 

" The Christian faith, 
Unlike the timorous creeds of Pagun priests, 
Was frank, stood forth to view, invited all 
To prove, examine, search, investigate, 
And gave herself a light to see her by." 

The custom of conferring degrees, for literary and 
scientific attainments, dates back at least as far as 
the thirteenth century. The University of Paris, 
the oldest in Europe, laid the foundation of the sys- 
tem. There was, at first, a middle degree given be- 
tween the Bachelors and the Masters, called the 
Licentiates. The two former only have been re- 
tained in modern times ; and although degrees were 
originally given in the University to distinguish the 
teachers from the pupils, still, as early as the close 
of the thirteenth century, they were bestowed on 
students as marks of literary and scientific profi- 
ciency. 

Adam Smith, who graduated at the University of 
Glasgow, and was honoured to fill successively the 
chairs of logic and moral philosophy in it, discusses 
in his elaborate work on " The Wealth of Nations," 
the advantages and disadvantages of literary de- 
grees ; and gives it as his opinion, that they are ut- 
terly worthless. Still, independent of such author- 
15 



170 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ity, the custom of conferring them has continued to 
obtain, and doubtless has contributed, in no small 
measure, to encourage young men to pursue a regu- 
lar University course. 

The higher degrees of the doctorate in laws, phi- 
losophy and theology, may have been injudiciously 
conferred at different epochs, and retiring, genuine 
merit, sadly overlooked ; still defection in these de- 
tails ought not to militate against the expediency 
of the principle. The question ought always to be 
considered in a literary light, and whether the con- 
tinuation or the cessation of the practice would most 
promote the interests of sound learning. Whatever 
objections may be raised against these latter degrees, 
few scholars are prepared to abolish those marking 
the college curriculum. It was the honourable am- 
bition of the author of " The Course of Time" to se- 
cure the Master's degree. It is given in the Scot- 
tish Universities to all students on graduating, who 
can pass certain examinations in philology, litera- 
ture, and philosophy. Nor is it possible to estimate 
the influence which such a desire exerted over his 
mind while pursuing the studies comprised in the 
course. 

We have followed the poet through two eventful 
eras of his existence, and now proceed to view him 
as occupying a higher position in the scale of mind. 
As Master of Arts, he had the University endorse- 
ment for having acquired a general knowledge of 
the literature and philosophy of all former ages. It 
must never be overlooked, that each generation only 



GREAT LAW OF KNOWLEDGE. 171 

learns the arts and sciences of the preceding ones. 
The revival of letters at the close of the dark ages, 
was only the resuscitation and resurrection of all 
the former knowledge which had been buried among 
the rubbish of monkish ages. The son seems only 
to transfer the records written on his sire's mind to 
his own. Saturn cannot go out of his rings, so the 
empire of human investigation has an impassable 
wall around it. Two proximate generations are 
like two kings, — the one passes on to the other its 
prerogatives and sapience. Solomon no doubt re- 
ferred to this philosophy regarding human knowl- 
edge, w^hen he said, " The thing that has been, it is 
that which will be ; and that which is done, is that 
which shall be done : and there is no new thing un- 
der the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be 
said, See, this is new ? It hath been already of old 
time, which was before us." Robert Pollok had be- 
come the owner of the literary wealth of preceding 
generations. In a word, he returned to his moor- 
land home, from the University of Glasgow, an edu- 
cated man. 

But there is growing out of this one fact wonder- 
ful and far-reaching results ; for an educated mind 
becomes a new moral centre on the earth. From 
it will go out thoughts which otherwise would never 
have had an existence. The stars are symbols of 
this kind of mind, each one of which radiates light 
over the abyss of night. Nor is this all, — star min- 
gles its radiance with its fellow-star, until the whole 
firmament often beeomes one expanse of illumina- 



172 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

tion. So it is with educated minds. The lines of 
light which emanated from the minds of Homer, 
Virgil, Dante, Milton, and Shakspeare, have com- 
mingled at various angles, and are now shining in 
the firmament of human thought. Their ideas are 
like stars enthroned in the sky of the past. The 
present century has been rich in illuminating minds. 
Pollok is one of this immortal number. His mind 
teemed with brilliant thoughts. Moorhouse became 
the locality of it for a time. His " Helen of the 
Glen," " Persecuted Family," " Ralph Gemmell," 
and " The Course of Time," are only corruscations 
from it during its brief earthly transit. His own 
feelings and views, a day or two after his arrival, 
are unfolded to his brother, who remained behind 
him for a. short period in the city. 

" Moorhouse, May 2nd, 1822. 
" Dear Brother, — 1 write this letter, you see, from Moorhouse. 
My mind, Uke every other body's mind, is occupied about the past, 
the present, and the future. Yesterday, the first of Summer, was 
as fully fraught with heavenly benevolence as any day ever shone 
on me. I was free, as you know, from all studential fetters, and in 
the best of company, the free, cheerful, liberalized and pious. I tried 
to enjoy what God had given me to enjoy. I looked on the coun- 
tenances of my friends, caught the warm comings-forth of theix 
hearts, and heard their words swollen with a fulness of wish for my 
welfare : nor did their wishes leave their doings behind. I beheld 
the kind features of the sky, and cast my eyes on the variegated 
verdure and flowery dress of the mountain, the meadow, and the 
lawn. I listened to the grateful song of a thousand laverocks,* sta- 
tioned in the middle heavens, or turned my ear to the varied rap- 
tures of the grove ; and would fain have said with the poet, — 
' My heart rejoiced in nature's joy.' 

* Larks. 



VISIT TO PAISLEY. 173 

And there was, indeed, an occasional moment when darkness fled 
from my soul, and allowed it to place itself in the attitude of enjoy- 
ment and gratitude — the homage most reasonable and most accept- 
able from man to his Maker. But soon did gloominess muster back 
its wicked banditti, and vex my soul with its wonted engines. 
' What is bread if it be locked up 1 what is the beauty of colour to 
the blind ? what is the chorus of heaven to the deaf? murmured I, 
' or what is the bounteous glory of the morning day of summer to 
the penniless and unprovided scholar, fitted to know and correct the 
world, or weep, or laugh at it; but. alas! sadly unfitted to live 
in it]' ; 

" The question was sometimes put, and no one put it so often as 
myself, where was I to hve, or what was I to do for the future 'i I 
answered lamely, but the answer was lamest of all to myself Nei- 
ther my conscience nor my inclination set up a standard for me at 
Moorhouse. I have inquired, and am inquiring at every faculty, 
and power, and sense of my soul, at more than ever entered into 
the mind of ' Father Jardine to conceive, — what shall I do 7 The 
question presses itself on me, and will be answered. God direct my 
steps and yours. Adieu ! 

" R. POLLOK." 

A few weeks after the date of this letter, he wrote 
a humorous and graphic epistle to his friend Mr. 
Marr, in which he gave a description of a tour to 
the town of Paisley, the third largest in the king- 
dom. There was much in and around the place cal- 
culated to interest such a mind as his. It is identi- 
fied with no small amount of the history and poetry 
of the west of Scotland. It was long a burying- 
place of the ill-fated Stuarts. The tomb of Marjory 
is there, the beautiful daughter of Robert Bruce, and 
mother of Robert the Second, whose untimely death 
historians relate with great minuteness. The Rev. 
Dr. Witherspoon was settled here at the time he 
accepted the Presidency of Princeton College, and 
15* 



174 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

wrote here many of his best works. Alexander 
Wilson, the author of " American Ornithology," 
and who was buried with public honours in Phila- 
delphia, in 1813, was a native of this place. Tan- 
nahill, the lyrical poet, and only inferior to Burns 
as a song writer, was also born there. " The Braes 
o' Gleniffer," "The Flower o' Dumblane," and 
"Gloomy Winter's now awa," are known wher- 
ever the Scottish muse has found a welcome. Mo- 
therwell, the author of " Ancient and Modern Min- 
strelsy," resided much of his lifetime there, and 
added greatly to its notoriety. Professor Wilson, 
author of "City of the Plague," and "Isle of Palms," 
the Christopher North of Blackwood's Magazine, 
is another of her illustrious sons. The suburban 
country is also full of historic interest. *' Ellerslie" 
is near by, the birth-place of Sir William Wallace, 
the champion of Scotland's freedom in the thir- 
teenth century. The favourite residence of the 
unfortunate Darnley is in the vicinity. Eastwood, 
the parish where Mr. Woodrow was minister, the 
author of the "History of the Kirk of Scotland, be- 
tween the Restoration and the Revolution," lay in 
the very route of Mr. Pollok from Moorhouse to 
Paisley. It is highly probable that he came to look 
at these places famous in history and song. There 
are many personal matters adverted to in his letter 
to his friend, relating to this visit, which are not of 
general interest. The following selections, however, 
are free from this. He appears to have reached the 
town at an advanced hour in the night ; perhaps at 



DESCRIPTIVE LETTER. 175 

a time when sleep descended like a mystery on the 
city, and silence sat monarch-like in the very mart 
of business. 

" I saluted one of the watch. He had been bom and bred in the 
town which he was herding. His countenance, for I could now 
see some, was meek and melancholy, and his whole figure would 
have made one think him ill-fitted to keep the foxes and wolves 
aloof from the fold of mankind. To this post, however, he had 
been destined, I suppose, by God and man ; and at it therefore he 
stood. As his countenance betokened, he talked to me with great 
civilit3^ I asked him if he was in the police about two years ago, 
when there was evil in the nation. He said he was, and that amid 
great fear and trembling. He knew that the people were oppressed 
and he pitied them. He had resolved, however, as well as almost 
all his fellows, if any serious uproar had happened, to keep by the 
uppermost warrior. I said to myself, ' Is this the faith of the king's 
men 1 Surely thy pay was small, for money answereth all things :' 
* it maketh a man most loyal.' I inquired into the nature of his 
duty, and into the whole institution of police. He had H street of 
considerable length to guard from the evils of the night ; and by his 
diligence, the inhabitants slept in peace, and their goods remained 
till the rising of the sun. Moreover, he was a companion of owls, 
and had all kinds of weather to endure ; and furthermore, he had 
to tell the people if it was fair or rainy, pleasant or boisterous : he 
had to meet often, in doubtful battle, the bloody desperado of night, 
of which several scars on his peaceable face gave ocular proof; and 
he held, too, the important office of announcing to the forgetful in- 
habitants the flight of time, but for which, some of them had, per- 
haps, mistaken it for eternity ; and on him lay also the weighty 
charge of watching the progress of fire, and he often saved human 
beings from being burned up alive : all these and sundry other bur- 
dens lay on the shoulders of this one being. ' You will surely,' 
said I, ' have a liberal pay from your townsmen ; they cannot take 
so much service for a mean reward.' ' My pay,' said the poor man, 
' is only eight shillings a week ; and this is all I have to subsist my- 
self and a numerous family.' ' Why,' said I, ' do you continue with 
the ungrateful beings 7 The robber and thief should devour them, 
the fire should burn them, or they should sleep forever, ere I should 



M 



LIFE OF POLLOK. 



stil' myself for such a paltry reward.' The man sighed us he 
could ; wished he could leave them ; but there was no better j(>b to 
begot; and eight shillings a week, kept him and his family, al- 
though no more, from absolute starvation.' I now wished hiai a 
good night, and went on, execrating the ingratitude of man ; and 
although but a mole in politics, I could not help seeing the differ- 
ence of those who sit in the senate-house and make laws, from the 
poor beings who stand in the night to defend them. ' It was not 
so,' said I, ' in Athens and Sparta. Every Spartan, every Athe- 
nian was a nobleman. There, every man gave laws ; every man 
fought for his country ; every man could rise to the highest dignity. 
But this is neither Lacedemon nor Athens. This is Scotland, the 
land of freedom.' 

" I was musing in this manner, when a Golgotha, or a place of 
skulls, arrested my attention. It was large, and sloped towards the 
north. The long grass nourished by the fatness of human dust ; 
the sad gray stones that gave note of man's mortality ; and the red 
turf, still marked with the sexton's spade, were now faintly lighted 
up. I stood and beheld the place. How still are the mansions of 
the dead ! I heard no one slander his neighbour ; no one strove 
and jostled for the uppermost seat. I heard no din of angry theol- 
ogies. The Cameronian, who never prayed for his king, and the 
established Churchman, who never prayed for any thing else, slept 
in kind embrace. Nothing like ambition, hurrying on with a svv^ord 
in one hand and a chain in the other, was to be seen here. I heard 
not a single groan of slavery. I saw no people-blinding farce kept 
up between Whig and Tory. I saw no cumbrous pensioners strut 
about. No one knocked at another's door with a tax-paper in his 
hand. No one was dragged to jail because he told the truth ; and 
no one rode in his chariot because he had learned to lie. No one 
called slavery freedom, nor freedom slavery. None oppressed ; none 
complained of oppression. No angry wife drove forth her husband 
to drunkenness and debauchery ; no silly husband taught his w^ife 
to rule over him, and no dissipated one broke the heart that loved 
him. The widow and the fatherless mourned not that landlords 
had taken their all, and driven them forth to want and nakedness ] 
nor could I hear a single landlord say, ' What else could I do with 
them'? my house was my own !' I saw no fopling affect to despise 
the man of worth, nor twist his gaudily-caparisoned body to attract 
a momentary glance. No centurion girt himself from the shape of 



DESCRIPTIVE LETTER. 177 

nature; and no clerk or soap-dealer, mimicked the costume and 
stifF-measured pace of the man of tactics. I could see no coquette, 
no fine Miss, bred to all but industry, fluttering along. No inno- 
cent daughter feared, and believed, and mourned, the tongue of 
falsehood ; no villain boasted his triumph ; and no foolish°youth 
turned in by the gates of destruction, I saw no table for the volup- 
tuary. The sons of Bacchus wrere silent. No miser hungered, and 
trembled, and lied, and damned himself for gold. No one held down 
his head because he was poor ; nor Hfted it up because he was rich. 
My ear perceived not the voice of fame ; my eye saw not the face 
of envy. No critic thirsted for the blood of genius ; no pedant rose 
by detraction. The bare-coated scholar of worth gave not place to 
the gilded head of emptiness. None praised his neighbour, that his 
neighbour might praise him in turn. I heard not a single man com- 
mend himself for virtues which he never had the power of violating; 
and no one took applause for avoiding crimes which he was unable 
to commit, or for conquering vicious pleasures by which he was 
never assailed. ' There is no vice, no suffering here,' said I ; 'but 
alas ! there is no virtue, no pleasure. No lover grows happy in the 
arms of his mistress. The face of friend, brightens not the face of 
friend. The bridegroom rejoices not over the bride. The child 
prattles not among the gleams of a father or a mother's love. The 
feast of reason is broken up. The meek eye of patience, the ever- 
giving hand of benevolence, the plain words and determined front 
of patriotism, the great endeavour to make mankind happy, have 
no place here. No one praises his Maker. O death, how silent is 
thy habitation ! And yet it is liker heaven than the busy world. 
' There was silence in heaven half an hour ;' but vice never ravaged 
there. Death, thou art cruel to man ! But what after all hast thou 
made by it 1 On love, and friendship, and goodness, thou never 
laidst a hand ! And here I was just about to tell death that he 
could not kill the soul, when I recollected that I had reasoned with 
the gloomy king about an hour ago, and came oif victorious; and 
why should I triumph twice in a night 1 I looked again stead- 
fastly on the place of graves. Ah ! the inhabitants are quiet,' said 
I, ' and I shall soon be as quiet as you ; and not only I, but all the 
busy world, all the inhabitants of the globe, in a few years, must 
lie down with you ; and the worms shall devour them.' A thought 
like this, one might think, would slay the worldly ambition of man j 



178 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

but it will not slay his worldly ambition. I feel it will not slay ray 
own, and why should I expect it will slay that of others V 

Mr. Pollok no doubt drew largely on his imagina- 
tion for this night scene. The following allusion to 
the death of the poet Tannahill, who drowned him- 
self at midnight in a fit of insanity, is thrilling and 
beautiful. 

" I now hasted away from the territories of the dead, and came 
to the banks of a river, which passes the town. It was the very 
place where a most unfortunate Scotch poet drowned himself I 
had read his songs with great delight. Their tender, artless sim- 
plicity had often touched my heart ; and a tear from my eye now 
mingled with the waters, while they followed those to the sea, that 
carried with them the last sob of the bard. ' Men were too cruel to 
thee,' said I ; 'thou wast too cruel to thyself! How happy hast 
thou made me! how miserable wast thou thyself! I never read a 
song of thine, but my soul is filled with nature and simplicity ; nor 
ever lay one by without a tear for thy fate. Genius, want, and 
neglect— Oh! they are ill to bear. But what has become of thy 
souH I will not hazard a thought. 'Shall not the Judge of all 
the earth do right V " 

He reached the residence of a friend, whom he 
describes with minuteness, after which his ideas took 
a new turn. He does not mention the author of the 
volume which suggested the train of reflection with 
which we close the extract. 

*• On a table beside me lay a book : it was a comment on the 
Revelation of John. I Ufted it and read. The commentator, like 
most other commentators, pretended to clear up all that was dark in 
his author. But, alas ! like most other commentators, too, he held 
his ' farthing candle to the sun ;' and when darkness came I lost 
him in it. Here I could not help thinking that the expositors of 
the Revelation of John have begun to comment without apprehend- 



DESCRirTIVE LETTER. 179 

ing the general intent of that prophecy. They will explain it all. 
Now, ii" man could do this he would understand the leading events 
which are to befall the Church to the end of the world, as clearly as 
God understands them. But this is not the design of the prophecy. 
It is true that ' the wise are to read it ;' but they can understand it 
only in part. Every century makes the Revelation plainer ; and 
the last century of time will develop parts of it — open some of the 
seals, which all the ingenuity of men could never break up before. 
Would not wise commentators do well, therefore, thought I, to keep 
in mind, that although the wise are to read and understand the 
Revelation, they are not to understand it all yet 1 

" While I was thinking thus, my mind wandered from the com- 
ment to the wonderful book itself ' What immortal thoughts 
must have swelled the breast of the prophet V said I, ' when he 
heard behind him a great voice, saying, ' I am Alpha and Omega> 
the first and the last ;' when he turned to see the voice that spake 
with him, and saw seven golden candlesticks : and in the midst of 
them, one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down 
to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle : his head 
and hairs wliite like wool, as white as snow ; and his eyes as a 
flame of fire; and his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in 
a furnace ; and his voice as the sound of many waters ; and having 
in his right hand seven stars, and out of his mouth going a sharp 
two-edged sword ; and his countenance as the sun shineth in his 
strength !' What must have passed through the seer's soul, said I, 
when he ' saw four angeJs holding the four winds of the earth ;' 
when he ' saw a mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with 
a cloud, and a rainbow upon his head, and his face as it were the 
sun, and his feet as pillars of fire ;' and heard ' when he had cried^ 
seven thunders utter their voices !' It was surely a great wonder in 
heaven, evea to John, ' a woman, clothed with the sun, having the 
moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars !' 
How could he stand when he ' saw seven angels in heaven with the 
seven last plagues, which filled up the wrath of God !' It was a 
strange sight to see ' an angel come down from heaven, having the 
key of the bottomless pit, and a great chain in his hand ; and lay 
hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the devil and Satan, 
and bind him a thousand years !' And John saw too, ' the heaven 
and the earth pass away ;' lie saw heaven — he saw the great God 
sit on his throne ; he saw ' the pure river of the water of life, clear 



180 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb'— 
he ' heard the voice of harpers harping with their harps !' " 

A week or two after the date of this descriptive 
tour, he wrote also a letter of great length, contain- 
ing nearly twenty pages, to his cousin, Robert Pol- 
lok, giving a humorous account of the manner of 
conducting the examinations for the Master's degree 
in arts. He panegyrizes the several professors, and 
goes into a rhapsodical disquisition about the various 
classes. Nor is it without merit ; on the contrary, 
it exhibits the writer to be extensively read in the 
curious as well as the valuable and erudite works 
on philology, philosophy, and belles-letters. But 
from the numerous allusions to local matters, it 
cannot be of interest to the American reader. 

The following extract is from an address deliv- 
ered about the same period before a Bible society. 
It seems almost incredible that he could write so 
much in the limited space of time. It is worthy of 
the author of " The Course of Time," and sets 
forth his views concerning the evils and remedy of 
slavery. 

"No one, I imagine, is ignorant of the present great extent of 
the slave trade; and no one, surely, is unacquainted with the 
wretchedness attendant on slavery. Parliaments have assembled, 
kings and nobles have consulted, votes have been given, and our 
ears have been soothed wtth the rapturous sound. — An abohtion of 
the slave trade ! But this sound has never yet wandered to the pil- 
laged shores of Africa ; the Niger and the Senegal have never mur- 
mured to its dulcet cadence ; the heart of the fettered West Indian 
has never leaped at its approach. At this very moment, many of 
the sons of Europe are prowling on the shores of Africa. And al- 



EVIL AND CURE OF SLAVERY. 181 

though all Europe has lifted up its voice against slavery, yet it 
either winks at those who carry it on, or is, at most, slack in the 
punishment of them. Thus, while we are pleased to hear slavery 
talked of as a thing that was, it is still walking on the earth in all 
its terrible, devouring, infernal deformity and rage. 

" Is there any one hearing me whose sympathies wish to keep 
company with a parent in distress 1 Let such a one look to the 
mother on Africa's coast. How does her heart tremble within her 
when a European sail rises on her view ! how does she faint away 
at the voice of a stranger ! She sees the hell-faced slave-dealer, 
more horrible than the lion or crocodile, making towards her abode. 
Her sons and her daughters cluster round about her, and call her 
mother; but her arm is weak; the agony of her countenance is 
unnoticed ; the voice of her prayer is unheard. The hell-commis- 
sioned slave-dealer, relentless as Abaddon himself, tears her children 
from her bosom, casts them into chains, and drives them away. 
And how, think ye, will she cast a last mother's look on their dear 
faces ! with what feelings, think ye, will her eye follow their depart- 
ure ! and when she stands on the dreary shore, gazing on the sail 
that is dragging her children to a land of suffering and murder — 
gazing on it till its last quiver escapes from her eye— O, who can 
tell her agonies ! — how will all their fond endearments rush upon 
her mind ! how will their everlasting loss break in upon her soul ! 
Ye that are parents will ye sleep over this 1 

" I have kept your attention aviray from the feelings of the chil- 
dren : look and see ! — from their eyes gush the streams of bitterest 
sorrow — from their lips is heard the loudest wail of injured nature l 

" In the same ship, huddled together with bars of iron, may often 
be found the father, torn from his wife and children, the sister from 
the brother, the friend from the bosom of the friend, the lover from 
the arms of his mistress, for whom alone he wishes to live. In 
short, to load one vessel with slaves, all the strongest, tenderest 
chords of nature are burst asunder. And when these unhappy 
mortals are dragged forth to the prison-islands, what is their lot 1 
I will not enter upon it : my heart weeps for humanity ; my soul 
runs back, and trembles within me : the shoulder, galled with the 
everlasting burden, the sweat-furrowed cheek, the sun-vexed worn- 
out look, gather up before my eye ; the clanking of chains comes on 
my ears; the never-ceasing lash mingles its deep-cutting sound ; the 
last groan of a brother, perishing under the hand of a brother, lin- 
IG 



182 LIFE OF POLT.OK. 

gers horribly on the wind ; and the accursed look of the task-mas- 
ter — Oh ! who can bear it 1 

" I bring not this picture before you to draw from you a tear or 
two, to make you fetch a sigh or two, or utter a word of commis- 
eration or two ; but to tell you that sojnething further must be done, 
if you would send slavery to the bottomless pit. Tears, and sighs, 
and words of pity are very humane things ; but as far as they re- 
gard a mother on the shores of Africa, or a chain-laden mortal in 
the islands of slavery, who can neither see nor hear them, they may 
be said, like Job's friends, to be ' miserable comforters.' God had 
compassion on Adam when he fell; but compassion was not all : he 
came down from the palace of eternity, and the voice of his ever- 
lasting mercy was heard in the garden, saying, that the seed of the 
woman should bruise the head of the serpent; and ' when the ful- 
ness of the time was come,' God, the Son, left the right hand of 
Glory, and came forth, girded as a servant, to guide us on to the 
feast of immortality. Weep, then, over slavery ; but labour while 
you weep. Nothing but sending the Bible and the Gospel to Africa 
will ever deUver its sons from bondage. Christians may weep, and 
parliaments may enact ; but their weepings and their enactments 
will never destroy this Mammon of unrighteousness. Let the vig- 
orous and life-giving spirit of the Bible once enter their hearts, and 
the sable sons of Africa will soon be stronger than their oppressors. 
And at the last day, whether, think ye, it will be better to have it to 
tell how much money ye hoarded, how many festivals ye sat down 
at, how many hours of careless indulgence you enjoyed ; or to tell 
that ye had been instrumental in breaking an arm of oppression — 
in plucking out an eye from the devil-like front of slavery 1 This 
will find no acceptance for you with the judge ; but it is a thing 
that will at least tell well at the last tribunal." 

The following stanzas are not only beautiful, but 
teeming with poetic life. There is a spell about 
them which memory cannot resist. The slavery 
of Zoopah, and the anguish of the African maid, 
linger around the soul like the spirits of sorrow. It 
is a picture of slavery which the reader can never 
banish from his thoughts. It is probable that the 



monia's lament. 183 

poet wrote the lines immediately after his impas- 
sioned address. 

THE AFRICAN MAID. 

On the fierce savage elifTs that look down on the flood, 
Where to ocean the dark waves of Gambia haste, 

All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, 

Gazing sad on the deep and the wide-roaring waste. 

A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide ; 

And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave ; 
Ah ! well might she gaze ! — in the ship's hollow side, 

Moaned her Zoopah in chains — in the chains of a slave. 

Like the statue of Sorrow forgetting to weep. 

Long dimly she followed the vanishing sail, 
Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep; 

Then thus o'er the billows she uttered her wail : — 

'■ Oh my Zoopah ! come back ! wilt thou leave me to woe 1 
Come back, cruel ship ! and take Monia too ! 
Ah ! ye winds — wicked winds ! what fiend bids ye blow, 
To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view 1 

" Has our set-nuptial night fled away like a dream — 
Must I never meet more the love-gleam of his eye 1 
Beneath yon broad palm that skirts Gambia's stream. 

Will he ne'er clasp my waist, and give sigh back for sigh 1 

" When the white foot of Day steps over the west. 
And night wraps my love in the dark raving sea, 
No koonting will sing to the hour of his rest. 
So far from his mother, his sister, and me ! 

" And what will the cruel men do with my dear 1 
Will giants devour him in dark bloody cove 1 
On his neck the hard clanking of chains shall he hear, 
Where my arms circled once with the softness of love % 



184 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

" Great Spirit ! why slumbered the wrath of thy clouds, 

When the savaire white men dragged my Zoopah awayl 
Why lingered the panther far back in his woods, 
Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey 1 

" Ah ! cruel white monsters ! plague poison their breath, 
And sleep never visit the place of their bed ! 
On their children and wives, on their life and their death. 
Abide still the curse of an African maid ! 

" When they travel the desert where thirsty winds blow, 
May no well of cool water spring forth to their tongue ; 
In war may they fall with thtir back to the foe. 
And leave not a son to awake their death-song ! 

" Go Death ! kindly Death ! to my Zoopah away ; 
Leave life to the happy, and succour the slave ! 
Adown from this rock will I finish my day. 

And we'll meet in the land that looks back on the grave ! 

" There, unwearied we'll hunt under skies cool and clear, 
Through groves ever fruitful, and meads ever green ; 
Where no ships of the foe on the ocean appear, 
Nor panther, nor serpent, nor white man is seen !" 

She ceased ; and a moment looked wild on the deep. 
But nor ship nor her Zoopah the waters displayed ; 

Then sighing, leaped down from the tall giddy steep. 
And the waves murmured over the African Maid ! 

Although Mr. PoUok devoted many of his hours 
to this kind of literature, he was at the same time 
making suitable preparation for entering the Theo- 
logical Hall, which opened on the first Wednesday 
of August, and continued in session for ten weeks. 
His preliminary course he considered only as a scaf- 
folding, from which he hoped to be better able to 



THEOLOGICAL SCHOOLS. 185 

look into the interior of the great temple of system- 
atic divinity. 

Protestant theolosjical schools date back to the 
Reformation of the sixteenth century. Prior to 
that period, the hierarchy had been illiterate and ir- 
religious for many centuries. The theology of the 
dark ao^es is a sad monument of this fact. The 
Waldenses alone had an educated clergy. Since 
that time, the Gospel ministry in every Protestant 
country has been noted for profound and varied 
erudition, as well as deep-toned piety. The relig- 
ious literature which the Protestant Church has 
produced since that time, is a living witness on tfiis 
point. The Divinity School instituted by Calvin at 
Geneva, has been the model, perhaps, of all poste- 
rior ones. It is eminently so in regard to those 
established in Scotland. The course of education 
in them is both extensive and thorough, including 
lectures in polemic and didactic Theology, Oriental 
literature, especially the languages of the Sacred 
Scriptures, Church History and Government, and 
Biblical Criticism. 

Besides the Divinity halls belonging to the estab- 
lished Kirk of vScotland, in the several college edi- 
fices of the kingdom, there are also those under 
the special supervision of the several branches of 
the Church not connected with the state. Great 
changes have taken place within a few years regard- 
ing these institutions. The United Secession and 
Relief branches of the Church have become one ; 
a disruption has taken place in the state Church, 
16* 



186 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and these movements have led to new arrange- 
ments in the theological education of the students. 
The celebrated Dr. Dick was Divinity Professor in 
the one belonging to the Secession body at Glas- 
gow, and was the ''Prophet's school" where the 
poet pursued his regular theological course. 

The curriculum in the theological halls connected 
with the established Church, extended to a four 
years course, of five months attendance each year 
on prelections. The Secession body required a five 
years course, of ten weeks attendance each year. 
It might be interesting to discuss here the advan- 
tages and disadvantages of these protracted sys- 
tems, as well as the private system of theological 
instruction, were it not that it would be irrelevant. 
This much, however, may be added, that a body 
of divines have been educated in Scotland who will 
bear a favourable comparison with any others in 
Christendom. The theological treatises of Fisher, 
Brown, Boston, Hill, Dick, and Chalmers, with a 
host of others of scarcely inferior reputation, are 
monuments of this fact. 

Every memorial which has been preserved of 
Mr. Pollok, during the three months which he spent 
at Moorhouse, after graduating and before entering 
the Divinity Hall, exhibits the same industrial spirit 
as heretofore traced. There are sketches of ser- 
mons, pieces of poetry, and fragments of essays, for 
which we cannot find a place in this biography. 
We cannot think of hiui but as one surrounded and 
ministe-red to by innumerable thoughts. 



CHAPTER II. 

" Religious man ! what God 
By prophets, priests, evangelists revealed 
Of sacred truth, he thankfully received, 
And, by its light directed, went in search 
Of more." 

In the beginning of August, 1822, the poet passed 
his examinations before the United Associate Pres- 
bj'tery of Glasgow, as preHminary to his admission 
to the Divinity Hall ; and on the first Wednesday 
of that month entered on the regular duties of the 
several classes. 

The first homily which he delivered there, is 
spoken of as a curious and remarkable production. 
It was founded on Rom. v. 19. "By one man's dis- 
obedience many were made sinners." His mode 
of discussion appears to have been singular, nay, 
original. He departed out of the beaten track of 
theological dissertation, and expatiated forcibly on 
the evils growing out of the apostasy, on the whole 
animal tribes and instincts. The interest, and in- 
deed amusement of the class increased as he pro- 
ceeded ; nor did they conceal their feelings, but 
on the contrary, violated the order of the occasion 
by bursts of laughter and exclamations of condem- 
nation. The poet, however, was not to be silenced 



188 LIFE OF POILOK. 

by such a course of conduct ; but continued with 
philosophic coolness to read the homily. Having 
reached that part of the discourse in which he sought 
to show what earth would have been, if the virus of 
sin had not polluted it ; he appeared to grow more 
energetic, and to rise in majesty and force accord- 
ing to the canons regarding the climax ; then elon- 
gated himself, and bending over the pulpit, with out- 
stretched arm and look of indignation, exclaimed, 
" Had sin not entered our world, no idiot smile 
would have gathered on the face of folly to put out 
of countenance the man of worth." Never, per- 
haps, before nor since, has there been such a rebuke 
administered in that hall of learning. The faces of 
the students were instantly crimsoned with shame, 
and deep silence continued until he closed his hom- 
ily with the significant language of Milton, 

" Fair patrimony 
That I must leeve ye sons !" 

It is needless to say that the class, as a whole, ex- 
pressed their opinion freely concerning the homily. 
" It was bombast and nonsense." The professor, how- 
ever, took a different view of it. His criticism was 
decidedly favourable. He approved of it. He said, 
" The division was textual and proper. The dis- 
cussion of the first two heads correct. Under the 
third, some things were advanced which might ad- 
vantageously have been omitted. It showed that 
the author possessed no small amount of poetical 
talent, which however he would advise should be 
more sparingly used in sermonizincr." 



VERSATILITY IN COMPOSITION. 189 

It is impossible to tell what results might have 
followed on a contrary criticism from the professor. 
Dr. Dick, in this instance, gave encouragement to 
the poet, and relieved him from an obloquy, with 
which the students, by their injudicious remarks, 
had covered him. Many a young man of the most 
brilliant talents, has been hopelessly injured by un- 
just animadversion on his mental efforts. The story 
of the poet Keats will ever remain a melancholy 
monument of this truth. 

The suggestion of the professor was afterwards 
most scrupulously followed by jMr. Pollok. Nor 
was it difficult for him to adopt a befitting style to 
the subject which he was discussing. Indeed his 
intimate literary friends all agree, that he possessed 
great versatility in this particular. He was equally 
felicitous in nervous Saxon prose as in graphic poet- 
ical composition. In a philosophical essay, it was 
the rigid philosophical language which he employed. 
In a sermon it was the simple scriptural phraseology 
which he wrote ; and so adapting the language to 
the topic. His letters, essays, poems, and sermons, 
confirm most fully this statement. Nor is this to 
be wondered at, when we take into consideration 
that the poets whose writings he most studied, ex- 
celled as much in the one species of composition as 
in the other. Milton was a prince in prose as cer- 
tainly as in verse ; so were Pope and Burns. 

Only ten weeks of the theological year were de- 
voted to attendance on prelections in the Divinity 
Hall. The remainder of it was partly passed in the 



190 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

country at Moorhouse, and in the city of Glaso-ow. 
No part of it, however, was wasted in idleness. Be- 
sides reading treatises on theology, studying the 
Scriptures in the original, writing sermons ; he 
also extended his inquiries in philosophy and gen- 
eral literature. From his note-book it appears that 
he read critically, the standard English poets during 
the year, marking their peculiarities and excellencies, 
with the special view of discovering the cause of 
that effect which they had produced on the woild; 
as well as to ascertain the circumstances of the 
writers themselves. The following summary of the 
fates of several of the poets shows how minutely he 
traced this latter position. 

THE BRITISH POETS. 

" Chaucer passed part of his life in a dungeon. Lydgate's needy 
complainings to Humphry, Duke of Gloucester, are loud and con- 
tinuous. Many of the days of James I. of Scotland were moaned 
away in a prison ; and, in the forty-fourth year of his age, he was 
cruelly assassinated. Robert Henryson wearied out a life of labour, 
obscurity, and penury. Sir David Lyndsay was banished from 
court. The Tower held in durance the body of Sir Thomas Wyatt; 
and too much zeal, at last, gave him an untimely victim to fever 
and death. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, proved the loathsomeness 
of a prison-house; and, in the flower of his age, was beheaded on 
Tower Hill. Want was the general attendant of Robert Greene ; 
and he died from a surfeit, occasioned by pickled herrings and 
Rhenish wine. Christopher Marlowe lived in profligacy, and at 
length had his own sword forced upon him in a quarrel at a brotheP 
many of his works were afterwards publicly burned. Robert South- 
well was dragged before councils and judges; was cast into a dun- 
geon, where he groaned away many years ; underwent the excruci- 
ating tortures of the rack ten times; at the King's Bench was con- 
demned to die, and was executed at Tyburn. Spenser, the fasci- 



DREAM ABOUT MILTON. 191 

nating Spenser, died between want and a broken heart. Downe 
struggled long with resentful feehngs and pecuniary difficulties; 
and w^as not unacquainted with the prison-house. Ben Jonson, the 
correct, the learned, the infinitely humorous Ben Jonson, fought 
with poverty in his youth, and was imprisoned for murder ; de- 
lighted his age in the days of his active manhood ; and, in the 
decline of life, exerted himself under the languor of disease, wrung 
out the dregs of his genius, and bent down a haughty spirit to the 
humility of begging, that he might not meet death on the keen edge 
of want," 

The poet had a singularly felicitous dream about 
that time, in which the divine Milton figured con- 
spicuously. His admiration of this great man knew 
no bounds. Nor have we ever looked at Flaxman's 
wonderful designs of Dante's "Divina Comedia," 
without wishing that some great etcher would ma- 
terialize in lines and shade this beautiful ethereal 
dream. 

In the dream-land there were but two personages, 
the bard that was to sing " The Course of Time/' 
and the mighty Milton. The subject of conversa- 
tion between them w\is Milton's own works, about 
which Milton spoke, without ostentatious humility. 
His fame too was discussed ; at length Pollok asked 
him his opinion of ' Comus.' ' What Comus ?' in- 
quired Milton, apparently unmindful of that won- 
derful poem. ' The Mask,' responded Pollok ; add- 
ing, " did he not think that it was a rare produc- 
tion ?" ' It is a finished piece,' said the author. — 
At this moment Milton became more palpable and 
awe-inspiring, so much so, that Pollok awoke from 
agitation; when, of course, all was dissipated like 
" the baseless fabric of a vision." He often alluded 



192 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

to the dream, saying, "that he had Milton's own 
authority for affirming, that the Mask of Comus 
was a finished piece of poetical composition." Who 
would venture to affirm that there is no reaUty in 
dreams ; and that ministering spirits never whisper 
in mortal ears ! 

Some few months before the second session of the 
theological hall, pecuniary wants began to make 
him uneasy. Economical as the arrangements were 
for the education of students in divinity ; still some 
money was necessary. Robert too, felt that his 
family could not conveniently spare what he needed. 
It was while in this dilemma that he thought of au- 
thorship. Hence in May 1823, he wrote in one 
week the beautiful and touching tale of " Helen of 
the Glen." 

The scene of the story is laid in the parish of 
Loudon, Ayrshire, in the vicinity of Drumclog, and 
immediately after the celebrated battle which was 
fought there in 1679, between Claverhouse on the 
one side, and the Covenanters on the other, and 
where the former was ino;loriouslv defeated. There 
is additional interest also given to the tale, from the 
fact, that the "Old Mortality" of Sir Walter Scott, 
'•overs the same ground and introduces the same 
kind of personages, but for a far diflTarent end. 
" Helen of the Glen," is a simple story of rural life. 
She was left an orphan through the cruelty of the 
limes, and died in early womanhood, leaving a holv 
memory behind. There are only three or four per- 
sonages introduced, who give a reality to the narra- 



ADDRESS ON PREACHING. 193 

tive. Nor can any one read it without the tribute of 
a tear, and without offering up the wish of Balaam. 
We read it ibr the first time in 1827, near the bat- 
tle-ground of Drumclog, and wept over the tragic 
story. During the summer, the author sold the 
manuscript to Mr. Collins, bookseller and publisher 
m Glasgow, for fifteen pounds sterling. A consid- 
erable sum for a Sabbath school volume, and from 
a new author; yet small when viewed in relation to 
its intrinsic worth. 

The only subject of interest connected with his 
second year at the Hall, was the formation of a so- 
ciety of SIX, through his agency, for the purpose of 
discussmg weekly, subjects connected with the pul- 
pit. His address on Preaching, read before the so- 
ciety, is valuable in itself, and worthy a place here. 

" It is my present design, brethren, to show you that many of the 
preachers of the present day are in language too barren, and in 
doctrine too argumentative, and draw the illustrations of the tacts 
which they state from too narrow a field. 

" It would not be easy to give you a criterion by which you would 
in all instances, know one of the preachers to whom I have alluded! 
He may generally be known, however, by the following thinas : — 
He will rarely use a phrase the least figurative or metaphoricar He 
will scarcely ever venture out into the world of nature for a simile 
or illustration. He will speak of the beauty or grandeur of nature 
m general ; but he will be cautious of naming any particular val- 
ley, or mountain, or river, or tree, or flower, or animal. You will 
freo.uently hear him enter upon long reasoning to prove the truth of 
the most plainly-stated facts in the Bible; and thus, instead of 
nKiking the fact itself bear all along on the hearts and consciences 
of his audience, after he has reasoned away the most of his tims to 
prove something, the reasonableness of which appears to every one 
at the very first sight, or to prove something the only proof of which 
that can be given is—' Thus saith tlie Lord,' you will see him 
17 



194 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

forced to draw at last a few indirect inferences, as the only shift 
that he can try of sending the great truths of God home to the hearts 
of men. If you meet a preacher of this kind down in the world, 
and take the liberty of calHng his mode of preaching in question, 
he will tell you that the truths of the Gospel need no ornament to 
set them off; that their ornament is their intrinsic value ; that em- 
bellishment draws the mind away from the Gospel, the thing on 
which alone the mind ought to be fixed ; that to particularize too 
much is below the dignity of the pulpit ; that the cross of Christ is 
the only thing in preaching ; and that Paul was a great reasoner. 

" Now it is against the class of preachers who preach thus in the 
pulpit, and speak thus in the world, that we object ; and we object 
to them, because they do not thus preach and speak always for 
want of talent, but from principle ; and because they press their 
mode of preaching upon others, as the very best. 

" After all that I have said to characterize the mode of preaching 
in question, I know you can have but a very indefinite idea of what 
I mean by it. You will easily see, however, that this want of 
definiteness about the subject in hand arises necessarily from the 
subject itself But I trust that, by attention to what I am hereaf- 
ter to say, you will readily gather a distincter and more definite idea, 
both of the mode of preaching which I mean to censure, and of the 
mode which I mean to commend. 

" In the outset, then, I would admit the greater part of the rea- 
sons which the class of preachers above referred to adduce in sup- 
port of their manner of preaching. I believe as much as any man 
does, that the truths of the Gospel need no setting-off ornaments ; 
but I differ from the preachers in question about the meaning of the 
term ornament. They denominate every thing ornament, or at 
least attempted ornament, in speech, that sets off an idea, except in 
the barest way ; I call nothing ornament that gives force to the idea, 
or leaves it more deeply impressed on the mind. They would say 
abstractly, for instance, that the anger of the Lord is terrible ; I 
would say with Job, ' The pillars of heaven tremble, and are aston- 
ished at his reproof They call their way of speaking plain and 
natural. Job's figurative and ornamented ; I call their way of speak- 
ing weak and abstract. Job's particular and impressive. No one 
believes more firmly than I do, that the chief ornament of the Gos- 
pel is its intrinsic value. But then, I count the Gospel warrantable 
in pressing all nature into its service, and argue that every part of 



ADDRESS ON PREACHING. 195 

nature may be so managed in preaching, that, instead of unsettling 
the mind, it will fix it more strongly on truth, on holiness, and on 
God. No one has a firmer belief than I have, that every preacher 
ought, Uke Paul, not to know any thing in preaching " save Jesus 
Christ, and him crucified ;" but I am of opinion, that to preach 
the cross of Christ with great and general effect, the preacher had 
better know much of nature and art. No one believes more than I 
do that the Holy Spirit can alone give efficacy to preaching ; but 
then I am for using all the means in our power, and seeking the 
operation of the Holy Spirit also. I believe that Paul reasoned 
much, but he stated more as ultimate facts. 

" Thus, you see, I condemn nothing that these preachers do ; but 
I censure them for something that they do not ; and I condemn 
them for disapproving of the addition which I would make to their 
mode of preaching. And all this I shall endeavour to illustrate and 
justify from the Bible. 

" First I say, that figures and metaphors, simile and allegory, 
and all richness of language, are sanctioned by the example of the 
Bible, I shall be very sparing in my quotations ; but when I make 
only one, had I time, I could give hundreds. 

" When Isaiah, the Gospel prophet, tells us of God's care of his 
people in trials, he says, not in the barren, precise, and correct lan- 
guage of the preachers to whom we have been alluding, that God 
will support and protect his people in every aflliction, but he repre- 
sents the God of Jacob as saying to his people, ' When thou passest 
through the waters, I will be with thee; and tJirough the rivers, 
they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, 
thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.' 
The same prophet, when he speaks of the effects of the Gospel, says 
not, like our barren preachers, that the heathen world shall be en- 
lightened, converted, and felicitated by it ; but he sings in strains 
worthy of Zion : ' The wilderness and the solitary place shall be 
glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. 
It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and sinor- 
ing : the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of 
Carmel and Sharon — in the wilderness shall waters break out, and 
streams in the desert ' Our barren preacher would say that such 
a city shall be destroyed, that such a land shall be laid desolate ; 
Isaiah says, ' Tremble ye women that are at ease ; be troubled ye 
careless ones ; strip you, and make you bare, and gird sackcloth 



196 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

upon your loins. They shall lament for the teats, for the pleasant 
fields, for the fruitful vine. Upon the land of my people shall come 
up thorns and briers ; yea, upon all the houses of joy in the joyous 
city : because the palaces shall be forsaken ; the multitude of the 
city shall be left ; the forts and towers shall be for dens forever, a 
joy of wild asses, a pasture of flocks.' 

" We find Jesus Christ making frequent use of the objects of na- 
ture to illustrate his doctrines. Every one remembers that beauti- 
ful passage beginning with, ' 1 am the true vine, and my Father is 
the husbandman.' 

" Every part of the Bible abounds with comparisons. ' The 
wicked spring as the grass ; the righteous shall flourish like the 
palm-tree ; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. My heart is 
smitten, and withered like grass. I am like a pelican of the wilder- 
ness : I am like an owl of the desert. I watch, and am as a spar- 
row alone upon the house-top.' 

" Our barren preachers, zealous for the dignity of the pulpit, are 
afraid to single out any object in nature. Our Saviour knew well 
the dignity of the pulpit, but he knew also, that the objects of na- 
ture were pure, and would not defile it. Hear him, in his heaveuly 
eloquence, saying to his disciples, ' Behold the fowls of the air : for 
they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your 
heavenly Father feedeth them. And why take ye thought for rai- 
ment 7 Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow : they toil 
not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solo- 
mon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. Where- 
fore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to- 
morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O 
ye of little faith'?' And again in that pathetic lament, the mo.st pa- 
thetic that ever lips uttered, when his soft eye melted over the great 
metropolis of his native land : ' O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killest 
the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often 
would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gather- 
eth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not !' 

'• Allegorical speaking is frequent in the Bible. I have not time 
to quote ; but of this way of writing, the eightieth Psalm, where the 
Church is spoken of as a vine and her enemies as wild beasts, and 
alsu the twenty-third chapter of Ezekiel and fifth of Isaiah, are 
memorable examples. 

" Of particular writing, almost the whole Bible is an example. 



ADDRESS ON PREACHING. 197 

Prom the time that the voice of the Lord God was heard in the gar- 
den, saying, ' Because thou hast done this,' naming what had been 
done, till John, scarcely a single prophet or apostle reproves the 
people without ' degrading the pulpit,' as our barren preachers 
would call it, by dragging into the view of that people the particu- 
lar sins which they had been guilty of Take an example from the 
third chapter of Isaiah, beginning at the thirteenth verse. And 
when we come to the sermons of Jesus Christ, of him who 'knew 
what was in man,' who knew the shortest and the easiest roc\d to 
the human heart, we have everywhere the fittest examples of par- 
ticular preaching. He well knew that truths abstractly stated, 
however important in themselves, leave little impression on the hu- 
man mind. When he accuses the Pharisees, he therefore tells them 
that they make broad their phylacteries, that they love the upper- 
most seats in the s3'^nagogues, and greetings in the market. He 
tells Jerusalem that it killed the prophets. Every sermon of his is 
full of parables. The tares and the wheat, the planting of the vine- 
yard. Dives and Lazarus, are familiar instances. In short, I may 
say that our Saviour scarcely ever stated a doctrine without a par- 
ticular illustration; and every one knows how well calculated the 
illustrations of our Saviour are to arrest the attention, and make a 
strong impression on the mind. The single story of Dives and 
Lazarus, gives us a more complete and a more striking view of the 
general state of the wicked and the righteous, in this world, and of 
the awful and everlasting punishment of the one, and the everlast- 
ing felicity of the other, in the world to come, than whole volumes 
abstractly and generally written on the subject could do, 

" The objects of nature are certainly well calculated to raise de- 
votion- within us. And while the royal poet of Israel sings in the 
warmest and most enraptured lays of the mercy of God through 
Jesus Christ, he forgets not to string his harp, and gather into the 
melody of his song the works of nature ; and from these he often 
takes occasion to bless cind magnify his God. In many psalms al- 
most all the prominent objects in nature are named as instances of 
the goodness or greatness of God. The cedar of Lebanon — the dew 
of Carmel — even the stork and the conies are not missed. Part of 
the sixty-filth and of the hundred and forty-eighth Psalms I shall 
read. Psalm Ixv. 5-J3. Psalm ex Iviii. 1-5, 

" The prophet John is not afraid, in his description of heaven 
17* 



198 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

itself, to liken its objects to pure objects of nature. Revelation, 
xxii. 1-5. 

" That you may the more fully see what I mean by a barren 
preacher, I shall shortly state his way of speaking of the attributes 
of God, together with the manner in which the Bible gives us an 
idea of these attibutes. 

" The barren preacher says in his concise and neat language, 
' God is eternal.' The Bible says, ' Before the mountains were brought 
forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from 
everlasting to everlasting, thou art God — and, thy years shall have 
no end.' The barren preacher says, ' God is unchangeable.' The 
Bible says, • I am the Lord, I change not — the Father of lights, with 
whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.' Our concise- 
styled man says, ' God is omniscient.' The Bible says, ' The eyes 
of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good. I 
am God — declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient 
times the things that are not yet done. Who hath measured the 
waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with a 
span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and 
weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance 1 Who 
hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or, being his counsellor, hath 
taught him 7 With whom took he counsel, and who instructed him, 
and taught him in the path of judgment, and taught him knowl- 
edge, and showed to him the way of understanding V The neat 
sermon-maker says, ' God is omnipotent.' The Bible says, ' All na- 
tions before him are as nothing. Behold, the nations are as a drop 
of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance : be- 
hoki, he taketh up the isles as a very little thing. It is he that sit- 
teth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are 
as grasshoppers ; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and 
spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in. He says to the sea, ' Hith- 
erto shalt thou come, but no further; and here shall thy proud 
waves be stayed.' The lightnings say unto him, ' Here we are.'— 
* He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it stands fast.' The 
barren preacher says that ' God is faithful — he will do all that he 
has said.' The Bible says, ' God is not a man, that he should he ; 
neither the son of man, that he should repent • hath he said, and 
shall he not do it 1 or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it 
good V The plain divisional preacher says, that our Saviour is in- 
finitely merciful and kind. But thus we hear of him in Isaiah : 



ADUREriS ON PREACHING. 199 

' He shall feed his flock like a shepherd ; he shall gather the lambs 
with his arm, and carry them in his bosom : he shall gently lead 
those that are with young. A bruised reed shall he not break, and 
the smoking flax shall he not quench. The Spirit of the Lord 
God is upon me ; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach 
good tidings unto the meek : he hath sent me to bind up the broken- 
hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the 
prison to those that are bound ; to comfort all that mourn.' The 
barren preacher says, that all who trust in God shall have sufficient 
support and protection from him. The Psalmist says, ' How excel- 
lent is thy loving kindness, O God ! therefore the children of men 
put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They shall be 
abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house ; and thou shalt 
make them drink of the river of thy pleasure,' See also Psalm xci. 
The first, second, and third-place preachers say, that God is terrible 
in his wrath. The Bible says, ' He removeth the mountains, and 
they know not ; he overturneth them in his anger : he shaketh the 
earth out of her place, and the pillars thereof tremble.' 

" These are sufllicient to show you what I mean : and it would 
be an insult to your sense to ask you which of the ways of speak- 
ing of God's attributes gives the brightest idea of them. I could 
easily show how the Bible method must make the stronger impres- 
sion ; but it would be needless in such a society as this to take up 
time with the solution of so plain a philosophical question. 

" I shall take another opportunity of saying what I have to say 
of the argumentative preacher ; and shall, therefore, conclude this 
very imperfect address with a general observation or two. 

" The mind, that has once been fully convinced of the truths of 
the Gospel, will be pleased with the barest and most formal way of 
stating these truths ; but many in every numerous audience, we fear, 
are not Christians. Much should, therefore, be done to engage 
their attention : and even the Christian himself, like David, will 
delight in taking occasion to praise his God from the works of crea- 
tion, as well as from those of providence and redemption. 

" Every preacher ought, as much as possible, to bring into the 
service of the Gospel the arts and sciences. They may be often well 
managed for illustrating the Bible. As the obvious appearances of 
nature, however, are best known, and consequently best fitted for 
general service ; and as they are so unfeelingly and stupidly neg- 



200 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

lected by the barren preacher, it is to them that we have chiefly 
turned your attention at this time. 

" And while we would have the preacher to be plain and simple 
in language — always to preach ' Jesus Christ, and him crucified' — 
never to lose sight of the great atonement, and the truths connected 
with it. we would have him, in imitation of the Bible, to bring into 
the service of the Gospel all the objects and ministers of nature. 
We would have him to give a tongue to the sun, and the moon, and 
every star of heaven, to speak forth our Saviour's praise. We 
would have him to bring forth the beasts of the forest, and cast 
them down to do homage at the cross of Christ. We would have 
him command the ocean to be silent, and listen to the ' still small 
voice' of the Gospel. We would have him make the four winds 
messengers of the word of God. We would have him make the 
mountain bow down to the footsteps of the Redeemer, and the val- 
ley rise up and meet his goings. We would have him teach the 
oak and the plane to spretid their shelter, and the sweet-brier and 
hawthorn to breathe their incense, in the lowly course of the meek 
and humble Jesus. We would have him teach every flower of the 
field — the violet, the rose, and the lily — to adorn the garden of Geth- 
semane ; make the ravens of heaven bring an offering to the Holy 
One ; and instruct the lark, and the nightingale, and every daugh- 
ter of heavenly song, to lift up, with man, hosannas to Him who 
came from the right hand of the Ancient of Days, to ' bind up the 
broken-hearted,' and ' to comfort all that mourn.' 

" I shall afterwards inquire into the cause why the barren mode 
of preaching is so prevalent." 

This essay is a ripe and rich production ; and 
would not be considered jejune, though written by 
a professor of pastoral theology. It is a sensible 
exhibition of the poet's piety and good sense. It 
shows that he had carefully studied the springs of 
human thought ; and the adaptation of certain 
kinds of preaching to the mind ; as well as the prin- 
ciples of scriptural teaching. It is a beautiful prose 
episode on preaching. 



CHAPTER III. 

" Each in himself the means 
Possessed to turn the bitter sweet, the sweet 
To bitter. Hence from out the self-same fount, 
One nectar drank, another draughts of gall." 

The correspondence of the author of " The 
Course of Time" is to be viewed as that of a stu- 
dent who is pursuing a professional course, and 
not that of a man ah^eady entered on the arena of 
pubHc action. His letters are addressed chiefly to 
persons constituting his own immediate family cir- 
cle, and embrace only the every-day topics of his 
own little orbit. The correspondence of Beattie, 
Cowper, Burns, Scott, Byron, Arnold, Simeon, Mc- 
Cheyne, and others, are among the richest legacies 
which the English language contains; but these 
nien have left nothing produced during their pupil 
state, which can be compared with the fragments 
bequeathed by Mr. Pollok. It is of the utmost im- 
portance that the reader keeps in mind the fact, 
that he is considering the actions and character of 
one, who was a student, and subjected to the tram- 
mels of a scholastic course. If Mr. Pollok had 
lived for ten years after the publication of " The 
Course of Time," there can be no doubt but that 
his correspondence during that period would have 



202 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

been very different from what it is. There would 
have been letters from him, not only to the illus- 
trious men of his own tongue, but to the literati 
of Germany ; for his great poem was translated 
into that language in less than two years after it 
was issued from the press. Nay, he was designated 
by the journalists of that land, " The Dante of 
Protestantism." The admiration with which his 
work has met in both the continents of Europe and 
America, entitle us to affirm, that his correspond- 
ence with the literary and religious men of the two 
hemispheres, had he lived a few years longer, would 
not only have been extensive, but one of the richest 
budgets which any generation has produced. 

At the close of the theological session, in October 
1823, the student brothers were separated for a 
time, and several of the letters which immediately 
follow were written during this period. David had 
accepted a situation as teacher in Auchindinny, a 
village on the banks of the North Esk, in Midlo- 
thian. The first is dated two weeks after they had 
parted. 

" Glasgoto, October, 28, 1823. 

" Dear Brother — I received your letter about an hour ago. How- 
eloquent is the language of a friend ! I have read accounts upon 
accounts of Edinburgh and its castle, but never till you transfused 
into me your ow^n feelings at your first sight of that ancient place 
of renown, did I feel the slightest approach to that changeful ex- 
citation of soul which its embattled towers, its hoary age, and its 
tragi-comic history, now stir within me. I am in raptures to see it; 
and really I never thought seriously and determinately of visiting it, 
for the very sake of seeing it, till now. You have enamoured me 



LETTER. 203 

of the whole scenery around you, and especially of the Esk. May 
his waters never fail, and may he never want a minstrel to awake 
the harp, responsive to the cadence of his wave! for the description 
of his uncircumcised ruggedness hath given me a thrill of dehght 
which claims dearest gratitude. But 1 waste time, for you know 
what feelings your description must have awakened in me. 

" To gratify both of us, and I believe both alike, I shall come 
and see you as soon as possible. At present, I am engaged with 
Mr. Collins. The correction goes on pleasantly. The emenda- 
tions we make are very trifling, and, I ma}' say, always meet ray 
own approbation ; they are indeed, almost every one of them, made 
by myself I esteem Mr. Collins more, both in talent and manners, 
the more I am acquainted with him. A few hours, and these hours 
I expect of this week, will finish the correction. 

" I had a letter lately from Mr. Macintosh, containing an offer 
of his school at Cupar- Angus ; but it is terribly far north. Besides 
I observed, in reading lately Pitscottie's ' History of Scotland,' that 
there were cannibals about Angus no further back than the reign 
of James II. ; so I thought it was as safe wintering on this side the 
Tay. But, joking aside, I did debate whether or not to take the 
school. My health, my inclination, and an ardent desire to attempt 
something, spoke loudly against it ; and so I resolved, after a weaiy, 
horrible struggle — for I knew I was leaning on a reed that had 
pierced a thousand sides — to trust for bread to the exertion of my 
pen. Success in teaching, at such a place as Cupar-Angus, would 
have been failure. In my present purpose I can only fail. ' Man 
taketh counsel within him ; but the Lord ordereth his steps.' 

" I retain my old room, and must be vigorously employed ; it is 
necessary both to my health and happiness. Nevertheless, as soon 
as I am disengaged with Colhns, and have chosen and prepared a 
subject of cogitation — for then I can profit in all places and at all 
times — I shall come and see you. All this, I trust, will be very 
soon. You may depend I will make it as soon as I possibly can. I 
weary to see you. The sensations I felt that day you went away 
were entirely new to me. 1 could have wept, although I scarcely 
could say why. I lost all appetite for dinner, and regained nothing 
like cheerfulness till late in the evening. 

" Your first Ayrshire letter was expedited, and all your letters 
have been sent forward. Our friends are all well. The harvest is 
nearly in at Moorhouse. R. Pollok, farmer, was blessing you when 



204 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

I was out, for keeping your promise of sending good weather from 
the east. 

" All your orders shall be strictly realized. You must write to 
.me in a week after the receipt of this, and write by post. Remem- 
ber I am No. 24. 

" Make yourself as well acquainted as you can with the history 
of those places in your neighbourhood which are notable for past 
transactions, that you may be able to point them out when I come. 

" R, POLLOK." 

About the middle of December, he visited his 
brother, at Auchindimiy, accompanied by their mu- 
tual friend, Mr. Marr. It was a tour of pleasure 
and information. The whole intervening region 
of country over which they passed, w^as rich in 
legend, but especially the Lothians, a district which 
includes the three shires of Linlithgow, Edinburgh, 
and Haddington. The configuration of the country 
too, is undulating, the hills often rising to a great 
height, and presenting landscapes of uncommon 
vastness, beauty, and grandeur. Midlothian is the 
Valentian district, which the ancient Romans held 
for about four centuries, and abounds with me- 
morials of that mighty people. Numerous stone 
coffins with giant skeletons, have been found during 
this century ; as well as arms, and other symbols of 
the Roman age. Edinburgh, which is itself a great 
epic poem ; or a tragedy ; or an antique history, 
is also in this region ; and the Pentland Hills, 
whose sad story, of sixteen hundred and sixty-six, 
is known by every one acquainted with the Martyr 
History of Scotland. 

One of the objects of that tour was to explore 



THE MARTYR STONE. 205 

these memorable localities, and especially the east 
end of the Pentland Hills, where Dalziel and his 
troops attacked the dispirited and fatigued Cov- 
enanters, and massacred fifty of them. The mon- 
ument, or " Martyr Stone," as it is called, which is 
erected on the battle ground, was an object of in- 
tense interest to the poet. The sun had set, and 
the cold, dark clouds of a winter night were drift- 
ing along the sky, hiding the twilight and the rising 
moon, as the youthful travellers reached the stone, 
rendering the inscription difficult to be read. But 
the pvoet traced the letters with his fingers, and 
brought the record av/ay from the field of blood and 
legalized murder. This is one of those rare scenes, 
which some unborn artist will seize and pourtray ; 
and weave, on account of it, an evero;reen wreath 
around his name. 

Mr. Poilok had formed the plan, and parth' com- 
posed two tales, one of them " The Persecuted 
Family," which referred to the events connected 
with that struggle and locality. His mind and 
heart were alike stirred up with these memories. 
His brother relates, that when they had all reached 
his lodgings, after nightfall, the poet exclaimed, in 
the midst of the conversation about the eventful 
scenes of the day : — " It was glorious, truly glorious, 
after wandering during the light of day on the soft 
hallowed bosom of the Pentlands, to stand, in the 
middle of December, on their highest top, nearly 
\\\ o thousand feet above the level of the sea, hold- 
ing high converse with God, and hear the spirit of 



206 LIFE OF rOLLOK. 

the blast drawing the curtains of night around us ; 
and then to come down in the sanctified field of 
martyrs below, surveying it by the shadowy light of 
the moon, shed through the slow-passing clouds, 
and groping, with our very hands, the stone in- 
scribed and set up for a memorial of them !'' 

The following letter was written to his brother 
from the modern Athens, on his return homewards. 

" Edinburgh, December 18, 1823. 

" Dkar Brother — Immediately on our arrival at Edinburgh, we 
found Mr. Lambie just as he was going into the theological class, 
His kindness and attention to us have been as vigilant as any one 
could expect from another. He has never left us since our arrival 
here till this moment. We have walked, eaten, drunken, and slept 
with him scot-free. Mr. Lambie lives at No. 2, Richmond Court, 
not far from college. He sends his compliments to you, and will 
be happy to see you. 

" On Tuesday we visited the Castle : the tomb of Fergusson, 
erected by Burns ; Parliament Square, in the court of which are 
lawyers innumerable ; Holyrood House, Calton Hill, and so on. 
The Castle, ' veteran hoary in arms,' to which Burns likens it, 
and the view of town, and country, and sea, from it, produced a 
most glorious feeling in our souls. No man could deline it. But 
a feeling that can be exactly defined is not worth the defining. 
Holyrood House, as a mere building, is nowise very remarkable. 
But when we thought how many of our kings, our Stuarts, un- 
fortunate things, had trod its royal courts ; led the dance in its then 
merry halls, brilliant with the lustre of fair eyes, whose light has 
long since set forever, and whose laugh of love, and kindness, and 
mirthfulness, had passed ere we came thither; had cracked their 
crack, taken their glass, planned and prospered, or had been dis- 
appointed there ; and especially when we considered that all these 
kings and lovely laughing dames, lay now mouldered into dust, we 
felt — I don't know what we felt — you will feel it yourself 

" To-day, we heard Professors Ritchie and Wilson : the last, the 
author, jouknow, of some famous works, attracted me much. We 



LETTER, 207 

then visited the New Town ; and the impression it produced was 
exactly the opposite of the Old Town, Oh, dehghttul, deUghtfuI, 
most dehghtful. We then visited Leith ; it is nowise interesting. 

" Upon the whole, we have been highly delighted, and therefore 
highly pleased, with our short and wintry excursion. Could every 
week of our life produce as many interesting ideas and feelings with 
as few painful and indifferent ones, we would smile as we looked 
away into futurity. 

" To-morrow, we mean to set off for home with the one o'clock 
coach. We leave you our blessing, and pray all happiness to be 
■with you. '• R. Pollok." 

The next letter was written a few days after his 
arrival at Glasgow ; and is worthy of one student 
brother to another. Every link in the chain of his 
history aggregates the evidence of his industrial 
and studious habits ; as well as his high appreci- 
ation of morality and religion. 

" Glasgow, Jan. 30, 1824, 

" Dear Brother, — I have been waiting these two weeks for the 
arrival of some things for you from Moorhouse. Some letters have 
arrived, but nothing else. These I send 3'ou with this. 

" I can send you little interesting news. You will be glad to 
hear, however, that our friends at Moorhouse are all well ; and so 
are those in the west. Young David, your nephew, is an extremely 
pretty child ; Robert is famed lor his profound sagacity. 

'• I have been in the midst of questions about you, and the coun- 
try around you, since I returned from Auchindinny. I am doinn- 
little myself. I neither read nor write poetry, for the present. 
Homer, which I read only for the Greek, the Greek Testament, 
French, and English history — these I read with some avidity. 
Helen is in the press. You will have a copy in a few weeks. 

" I hope you are persevering with pleasure in your studies. 
There is no fear of doing something if we have determined to do it. 
Reading or studying, without reading or studying for some deter- 
minate purpose — with some chosen and appropriated end in view 
— is like one walking in an enchanted labyrinth ; the more he ex- 



208 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

erts himself, the more he is bewildered and perplexed. It is the 
want of this which has disgusted me at every thing, and put me out 
of humour with myself. Avoid this deadly vale, as full of the dis- 
appointed hopes, and once lotty ideas of scholars, as ever the Val- 
ley of the Shadow of Death was full of the bones of pilgrims. By 
the by, read ' The Pilgrim's Progress ;' it is the funniest and the 
best system of theology I know. You are enthusiastic, I know, in 
your love of oratory ; that is, of composing and speaking v»^ith glo- 
rious effect. Beware of letting it cool. Let your mind frequently 
turn to those objects which have a tendency to feed your enthu- 
siasm. Listen not a moment to any thing that would advise you 
from your chosen purpose, and your success is sure. 

" Write soon. Have you seen Mr. Lambie 1 Love to the Misses 
Brown. 

" Our brother John is named for an elder of the church. I do 
not know yet whether he will take the office, I think he ought as 
it will be another motive to him for walking in the paths of right- 
eousness. He has qualifications, you know, for it. 

" If you can get M'Neil's ' Scotland's Scaith and Waes of War,' 
besides seeing a fine poem, you will see some touches about Roslin 
Castle, the Banks of Esk, Lasswade, and so on. 

" How do the young ladies get on in their 'labor of love V 

" R PoLLOK." 

It appears from the next letter in the series, that 
his constitution was beginning to give way to his 
incessant mental application. No one can read the 
epistle without sighing over the history of the noble 
youth, whose aspirations were seriously affected by 
physical debility and pain. The house of clay 
could not comfortably lodge the ever restless soul. 
It is well that there are spiritual bodies prepared for 
the soul, which the long cycles of a future eternity 
cannot wear out. 

" Glasgow, reb. 11, 1824. 

" Dear Brother, — I hope you have received my letter of the 30th., 
or thereabout, of last month. The parcels which you mentioned in 



LETTER. 209 

your last letter, were all duly received by me, and forwarded to their 
respective destinations. 

" Our friends at Moorhouse are all well. John, whom I saw to- 
day, says he will answer your letter soon. Young John still gives 
proof of more than ordinary talents ; but I doubt there will be no 
means taken to improve them. He has not been able to go to school 
during winter, and I suppose he will be needed at home in summer. 
But if he learn to read and write tolerably, it will perhaps do, I- 
should like very well, however, to see his attention turned to learn- 
ing ; but perhaps, it would make him no happier than it has made 
me: why then urge him to if? But I am talking nonsense: no 
one knows what course of life is best for any other. 

" I hope you are quite well. Health is happiness, at least I think 
it so. These pains still continue to hover about me. They weary 
my body and they weary my mind ; and in fact, so work, that that 
force of mind which sliould be sent abroad in the contemplation of 
natural and moral scenery, is, almost at every moment, attracted to 
the feebleness and worthlessness of myself. You are not to think 
that I am worse than at other times, however. I have still the hope 
that I shall get rid of them. Even as I am, I can scarcely say that 
my health is bad. Were my employment any thing other than 
study, perhaps I would scarcely feel any thing wrong ; but yet 
weary and comfortless as I often am, and disappointed as I am at 
present with myself, I have not yet wished, with all my heart, that 
I had chosen another course. 

" I still continue to read Greek, Latin, French, and English, 
This is a miserable letter ; but I shall write as good a one as I can 
the next time, and you know, ' angels can no more.' 

"R. POLLOK." 

It is not improbable that he took his harp in this 
dark hour of depression, and gave the following 
thoughts to numbers. It is an extemporaneous, 
poetical soliloquy. 



TO MELANCHOLY, 

What gloom is this that gathers round my soul, 
And darkens all my mental hemisphere '? 



210 LIFE OF POLLUK. 

'Tis Melancholy in its blackest robes. 

Come, then, dull power ! no longer I rebel. 

Ah ! I have struggled long beneath thy gloom ; 

And whiles my eye has pierced the severing clouds, 

And caught a ghmpse of day that dwells on high, 

Beyond the tempest, thundering, and storm ; 

But now 'tis solid darkness all around. 

I fight no more I dark power cast wide thy arms; 

Possess my soul entire ! nor book, nor friend, 

Nor muse, I summon to repel thy force. 

Conduct me through thy paths of utter darkness ; 

Through wastes unmeasured by the step of man. 

Where nought is heard save demons yelling loud 

On midnight blast; through graves and charnel houses, 

Where dwells the owl, companion of the dead, 

And pours her wail on the wide ear of night ; 

Where guilty ghosts, sent back from Charon's shore, 

With hollow groanings, fright the wandering winds. 

Lead me to ruins, where the hungry wolf 

Looks forth, and grinds his teeth ; where serpents hiss, 

And all the venomed reptiles festering crawl. 

Take me to dungeons, where wide-mouthed despair 

Forever pictures, to the wretch, the rope 

Of death, the staring crowd, the mortal fall, 

The naked soul before the bar of God. 

Let widowed mothers, naked orphans, crowd 

Before my mind, and let no hand be stretched 

To help them ; let me see them wasting down 

To death, or frozen to statues by the way. 

Let every fair whom falsehood has undone, 

Give all her wailings to my steady ear ; 

And let her tell that father, mother, friends. 

Have driven her out to want and fell reproach. 

Convey me to the straw where sickness pines 

'Mid rags, and filth, and cold, and poverty. 

And let me see the dear and only son, 

Unequal struggle with the king of death. 

While o'er him hangs the mother, lone in grief. 

And bring me to the cell where madness clanks 

His chains, gnashes his teeth, with demon eye 



LINES TO MELANCHOLY. 211 

Looks wild, and tells the saddest truth on earth, 

That lofty man has fallen below the brute. 

Let famine, earthquake, pestilence, and war, 

And every imp of woe, start up before me. 

And if thou mean'st, dread power! to sum my woe, 

Conduct me to myself; keep me at home ; 

Pourtray a body wasted with corroding pain, 

And wasted more with dark and angry thought ; 

A restless soul, a soul that sees what men 

Have done ;..that kindled at the name of all 

The grand in mind ; felt in itself a spark 

Of heavenly fire, that taught it to despise 

The path that leads men to oblivion ; 

Beheld the fields, where Flora ever walks, 

Scattering profuse sweet flowers of every hue, 

Before light Fancy's easy roving step ; 

And hoped to cull a flower that might have bloomed 

Immortal o'er my grave, and told I lived ; 

That fire now quenched, these fields shut from my mind, 

Pourtray me dark, dejected, flying thought ; 

Hope bidden farewell, and turned her awful back; 

Where'er I lean, stabbed to the very quick. 

Each thought a pang of woe. Do all thou canst ; 

But, O dark power! if thou hast mercy, hear; 

'Tis midnight, and cold sweat bedrops my aching 

Temples, my weary heart tumultuous beats ; 

In mercy close my eye one hour in sleep. 

Consumption frequently lies dormant in the sys- 
tem for years, especially when there are predispos- 
ing causes in the constitution. Nor can any one 
read the following letters, who is acquainted with 
the closing scenes of his life, without being convin- 
ced, that it w^as a premonitory outbreak of this la- 
tent disease. 

" Glasgoiv, March, 5. 1824. 
" Dear Father,— On Wednesday last I was seized with an ia- 



212 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

flammatory sore throat, accompanied with rheumatic affection, 
which produced considerably high fever. From that time till to- 
day, the fever rather increased ; but this morning, about one, it be- 
gan rather to abate ; and at the present time, which is about one 
o'clock noon, it still gives symptoms of abatement. From blistering, 
and vomiting, and sweating, which were thought necessary to stop 
the progress of the disease, as well as from the painful nature of the 
disease itself, and my entire inability to eat any thing, I have been 
reduced to a state of great weakness. You need not be alarmed, 
however, as both from my own feehngs and the opinion of a very 
skilful physician whom I have employed, nothing serious may be 
apprehended. I would have written to you sooner, but I wished 
to be able to say, when I wrote, that I was getting better ; and it 
was ^only this morning that I felt any change that way. I would 
be glad to see any of you; but Margaret will be most useful. 

" You see I have been obUged to borrow Mr. Marr's hand, not 
being able to sit out of bed so long as to write the letter myself. I 
am yours, &c., " R. Pollok." 

" Rose Street, Manh 19, 1824. 

" Dear Father,— I am getting fast well. On Wednesday I 
walked half an hour. Yesterday I walked a whole hour, and felt 
myself none fatigued. lam, indeed, getting most rapidly stout; 
and I think my health is much better than it was before I was 
taken ill. 

" I have sent you the Uttle book. You are not to say to any body 
who may see it who is the author. — I am, dear father, yours, &c., 

" R, Pollok." 

" Rose Street, March 20, 1821. 

" Dear Brother, — I have had a severe sickness since I wrote to 
you last. I was taken suddenly ill. It was fever, accompanied 
and followed with a violent rheumatic affection. Ten days was I 
closely confined to bed, and suffered much from the violence of the 
disease, much also from the vomiting, blistering, and sweating, 
ordered by the surgeons ; all of which, however, as they were ap- 
plied by the best medical skill, had a good effect. I was so weak 
that I could not stand without assistance — reduced almost to a 



TO AGNELLA. 213 

skeleton ; but wa. never in what you would call a very dangerous 
state ; which was my reason for not ordering a letter to you 

^. U is now eight days since I rose ; and, ' Bkss the Lord O my 
soul! and all tliat is within me' be stirred up to magnify and 
'bless his holy name,' I am recovering my strength with wonder.ul 
rapidity. The fever has burned up the old constitution; and a 
new one is fast forming, I trust in many respects better. I am now 
able to walk out an hour and a half before dinner, and ea niost 
excellently. Indeed, my health is much better than it was before 
the attack. I am doing nothing yet but nursing myself 

" You owe Heaven gratitude on my account. And surely it 
must be a pleasing sacrifice to the Creator and P----^,^;-"'^^ 
see a brother pouring forth his soul in gratitude for a In other, so 
assisted and cared for as I have been by Almighty Goodness ! 

- Durin-r my illness I was most piously attended to by my 
friends Margaret came, in the fulness of unwearied attention, 
ministering to my comfort. Miss Campbell ---'/-^"^^^^f , ^^^^^ 
li.ht of heaven, glowing with infinite regard. My ff ^^^^-^^^"^^ 
did his countenance comfort me! John, Mrs. Pollok, Miss Janet 
Pollok Miss Jean, Robert, all circled around me. And even M., 
like the star of the morning, lovely, sweet, and glorious drew riear, 
and threw the gladness of innocence into my heart. My friends m 
Glasgow were equally attentive. Mr. Marr was the stay which 
God°Almi'.hty placed at my right hand. Rejoice with me, my 
brother. And ' bless the Lord, O my soul !' 

" I received your parcel of letters yesterday, and had the oppor- 
tunity of dispatching them all the same day. Write directly. ^^ 

" R. Pollok. 

From the peculiar train of thought in the follow- 
in^ stanzas, they seem to have been written durmg 
thts illness. The third has two images of surpass- 
ing beauty. 

TO AGNELLA. 

Dark is my soul like dead of night ; 

Yet like the night that, now and then, 
Sees piercing through the cloud, the light 

Of lovely star, soon hid again. 



214 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Why hide so oft, my leading star 1 

Star of my life, Agnella ! rise ; 
Brighter to me, and loveher far, 

Than she who walks the morning skies. 

Sweet is thy light, Agnella ! sweet 
Thy voice, like hymn of summer eve ; 

Thy smile, like angels when they meet, 
And tell oC sinners that believe. 

So young, so kind, so innocent, 

Thy look so full of holiness ; 
To 'nighted earth sure thou wast sent, 

An earnest of celestial bliss. 

Thy loving, laughing, guileless eyes 
Ai'e like a glimpse of heavenly light : 

Agnella ! fairest star, arise, 

Arise, and look away the night. 

He writes thus on recovery : — 

" Rose Street, March 30, 1824. 
*• Dear Brother, — Yours of the 27th I received this morning. 
I have nothing to say, save that I am now well recovered, able to 
employ myself as usual ; and my spirits rather better than formerly. 
Our friends, for any thing I have heard, are all well. In the course 
of a week or two I shall speak of coming to see you. 

" R. PoLLOK," 

He had just completed the two tales, " The Per- 
secuted Family," and " Ralph Gemmell," before his 
attack. They were the result of his leisure hours 
during the winter. We have no record of his 
course of reading during the same period ; but 
from his habits and devotion to knowledge, we can- 
not resist the impression that he was parsimonious 
of his time, and brought forth intellectual fruitage 
every day. 



CHAPTER lY. 

" Books of this sort, or sacred or profane 
Which virtue helped, were titled not amiss, 
The medicine of the mind. Who read them, read 
Wisdom, and was refreshed ; and on his path 
Of pilgrimage with healthier steps advanced." 

Mr. Pollok's first active effort after this attack 
was to visit Edinburgh, with a view of disposing of 
the manuscripts of the two tales, " The Persecuted 
Family," and ''Ralph Gemmell." He called on 
several publishers, but without success. The gen- 
eral allegement was, that the public taste was viti- 
ated and could not appreciate them. Waugh & 
Jones, however, requested him to leave the man- 
uscript of " The Persecuted Family," with them 
for a further perusal, which he did ; but that of 
" Ralph Gemmell," he had the mortification to carry 
back with him. 

Before returning to Glasgow, he proceeded to 
Auchindinny to see his brother. He spent only a 
day with him, but brief as the period was, he wrote 
the memorable lines " On the Dying Mother," be- 
tween the hours of ten and twelve o'clock of that 
day, and at the solicitation of David. They had 
been discoursing about their departed sister, Mrs. 
Young ; her early death ; the peculiarities of it ; 



216 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

her orphan child ; the death scene, and other cir- 
cumstances of the sad event. The description of 
the whole shows how vividly the poet recalled the 
scene, after the long period of nine years. But we 
have adverted to the lines in a former part of this 
biography. 

As soon as he returned to Glasgow, he wrote to 
his brother, informing him of his unsuccessful inter- 
view with the Edinburgh publishers, on whom he 
had waited. 

'' Glasgow, April 9, 1834. 

" Dear Brother, — My coming to Edinburgh has been unfruitful. 
The gentleman of whom I spoke did not purchase the manuscripts. 
They were exactly to his own taste, he said, but he was afraid they 
would not suit the taste of the public, which in that kind of compo- 
sition was horribly corrupt. I left one of the manuscripts with an- 
other bookseller, but have scarcely any hope that he will pur- 
chase it. 

" When a man is rolling a stone up a hill, and can get no block 
on which to i-est it for a little, or rather, when he is disappointed of 
the one at which he had fatigued himself grasping, he is in rather 
a forlorn case. You can apply the simile to my situation. The 
stone will not crush me, however ; we shall rather let it down again, 
although it should endanger two or three on-lookers at the foot of 
the hill. 

" You will see the happiness of having something to do, which 
depends not so much, as I have been doing of late, on the caprice 
of a present evil world. I would rather be made to ride the stang, 
a very severe kind of punishinent, than write to please the taste 
of that part of the public, whose praise, admitting we could gain it, 
is by no means worth the having. 

" My ideas are at a stand just now. Trifling as the sum of 
money in which I am in the immediate need of, it makes me some- 
what uneasy, because I do not see how I am to get it. You would 
be right in saying that I ought to have employed myself at some- 
thing whose fruit would have been sure. I should, there is no doubt 



LETTER. 217 

of it. Well, well, I must just think a day or two, and see to make 
the best of a bad job. 

" I did not write to you from Edinburgh, because I left it with a 
boat at seven o'clock on Thursday evening, and I took the resolu- 
tion to go by it a few minutes only before we set off. 1 arrived 
safely about ten next morning. You may expect to hear from me 
in the course of two or three weeks. I believe I shall leave Glas- 
gow soon for the country. " R. Pollok." 

In little more than two weeks he wrote again to 
his brother, and sent the manuscript of " Ralph 
Gemmell," requesting him to make further efforts 
to sell it. 

" Glasgoio, April 25, 1824. 

" Dear Brother,— I send you with this the manuscript of ' Ralph 
Gemmeir which you may try to sell in Edinburgh. Brown, Waugh 
& Innes. and Oliphant, you need not try. Robertson, Parliament 
Square, try first; then, Oliver & Boyd, or whoever you may think 
best. If you get money offered, let it go. Ten or fifteen guineas is 
as much as I expect. Indeed, I do not expect you will get money 
offered, but you may try. If you will take the trouble to go into 
town on a Saturday afternoon, it will be best just to leave it till 
next Saturday ; but do as you please. The manuscript of ' The Per- 
sesuted Family,' which I left in Edinburgh, I have yet heard 
nothing. 

" After you have made all the trials you think necessary, send 
me an account of your labours, but not till then ; for as I am sine 
dcnario, I wish to have little money called for. But write to me in 
tlie way of friendship as often as convenient. 

" Our friends are all well. Our mother, indeed is not very strong, 
but is getting rather better. 

" Remember me to the Misses Brown. Thank them kindly for 
their attention to me when I was last there, 

" The time of your enjoyment will now be coming. The banks 
of the Logan and the Esk, will be putting on their leafy garments, 
and lifting up their song, tuned to the purity of nature, to invite 
you forth to health and happiness. Happy may you be ! The man 
who does his duty needs not be ptherwise. 
19 



218 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

" To avoid expenses, I will write as seldom as I can ; but when I 
have any thing to tell you worth a sixpence, I will write. 

" R. POLLOK." 

It is evident the poet was exceedingly anxious 
about the disposition of the manuscripts ; and prin- 
cipally on account of his pecuniary necessities. 

" Glasgoio, May 3, 1824. 

" Dear Brother, — As I have got a letter from our father, to 
transmit to you, 1 take the opportunity of saying a word or two on 
my own account. I am putting you to too much trouble, but you 
must excuse me. I wish you to deliver the letter as soon as con- 
venient to Mr. Waugh, the gentleman with whom I left the manu- 
script when in Edinburgh. Should he give you the manuscript, 
which I required him to do if he is not pleased with it, you may try 
to sell it from thirty to fifteen guineas. If Mr. Waugh have any 
other orders to me, send them. I wish you would write to me, 
at any rate, by the end of next week. 

" Mr. Marr received your letter. Have you received mine with 
the manuscript of ' Ralph Gemmell V 

" R. PoLLOK." 

It appears from the following letter, that he had 
left Glasgow with the view of residing a short time 
at Moorhouse. We are presented with a new 
phase of the poet's character ; that of preceptor. 
His pupils were his nephew and orphan niece. 
The former ten, and the other only nine years of 
age. It is an additional wreath in his crown of 
fame, that he stooped during his weeks of recre- 
ation, to plant these youthful minds with thoughts, 
and give them shape and direction. 

" Moorhouse, May 17, 1824. 
" Dear Brother, — 1 have received the manuscript from Mr. 



LETTER. 219 

Waugh. He would tell you that it was sent away. You will write 
to me by the Messrs, Taylor. 

" I have now left Glasgow for some time; and if nothing occur 
to bind me to a particular spot, I shall wander, for I know not how 
long, over the face of the earth, and it may be the face of the sea 
too, Mr. Marr has gone home to his father. 

" I have been at Moorhouse eight or ten days. John and Janet 
read to me daily. They are both excellent scholars— little hurt by 
the here-and-ihere system of education under which they exist. 
John's intellectual powers, as far as they can be judged at this early 
period, are of the best kind. He has begun the Latin rudiments 
with vigour. This day he is at penna, and he will clear it off with- 
out a hanker. He has also begun to read in Adams's Lessons, for 
that is my system. But the loss is, I fear my stay at Moorhouse 
will be too short to do him much good. As his memory is excel- 
lent, it will be the less hurtful to him, however, that he be irregularly 
attended to. 

" The young ladies, I understand, are gathering about you in an 
exceeding great multitude to witness the examinations, I have 
read an author, who affirms the most of them to be ' incarnate 
devils,' At any rate, we know for certain that the poet Orpheus 
was torn to pieces on Mount Rhodope by women — an awful exam- 
ple to future generations ! A man may be torn to pieces on the 
banks of the Esk as well as on the mountains of Thrace. 

" R. POLLOK." 

There is no difficulty in detecting the Httle hero- 
ine of the following piece. The poet seems to 
have watched his little orphan niece with a parent's 
heart and eye, and to have entered into her joys 
and sorrows. There can be no doubt but that she 
was before his mind also in the inimitable descrip- 
tion of children, in the fifth book of " The Course 
of Time." Indeed two lines are taken from this 
ode. It closes in these words : — 

" Gay, guileless, sportive, lovely little things ! 
' Playing around the den of sorrow, clad 



220 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

In smiles, believing in their fairy hopes, 
And thinking man and woman true ! all joy, 
Happy all day, and happy all the night !" 

It is more than probable that the poet brought 
the " mimic child" and the '* go-cart" with him to 
Moorhouse, to pleasure the little orphan. 

THE CHILD. 

Lovely, laughing, guileless thing, 

Playing round the den of sorrow, 
Lightly as the swallow's wing, 

Joyous as the lark of morrow. 

Busking now thy mimic-child, 

Forward now with go-cart prancing ; 

Pulling here the hedge flower wild, 
There with honest Luath dancing. 

For the face of present pain. 

Ready is thy tear-drop seen ; 
Soon it falls — thou smilest again. 

As the tear had never been. 

Every moment new thy thought, 

Every thought as sweet as new ; 
Nothing lacking, fearing nought, 

Thinking man and woman true. 

Happy that thou knowest no more ! 

Truly happy only then ! 
Could I live my childhood o'er. 

My childhood I would live again. 

In the last week in May the poet, accompanied 
by Mr. Marr and Mr. Meikle, a poet and author 
at that time of no small promise, took an excursion 



AIRDSMOSS. 221 

through the southern part of Ayrshire, travelling on 
foot from Mauchline to Loch Ryan in Galloway, 
and back again. They crossed the river of Ayr, 
so celebrated in song, on the confines of Airds- 
moss, the desolate morass, where Richard Cam- 
eron the preacher and person from whom the sect 
of the Cameronians took their name, was slain^ 
with his sister and several persons, in 1686, by 
a detachment of dragoons. The " Cameronian 
Stone," which points out the mortal remains of 
these martyrs, and which was re-lettered some 
twenty years ago, having become illegible, afforded 
occupation to " Old Mortality." It, is also immor- 
tal in song : — Hislop, in his " Dream of the Mar- 
tyrs," sings, 

" In a dream of the night I was wafted away 
To the muirland of mist where the martyrs lay, 
Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen, 
Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green." 

They pursued their route through the parish of 
Dalrymple, where the great battle was fought, in 
which Coilus, a king of the Britons, was slain. 
They lingered by the banks of the " Bonny Doon," 
which has become imperishable in song, and abounds 
with memorabilia of ancient wars. It is only about 
a mile from the confluence of this river with the 
sea, that the ruins of " AUoway's auld haunted Kirk" 
stand, upon an eminence of its banks. " The 
auld clay biggin" where the poet of " Tam O'Shan- 
ter" was born, is also there ; as well as the mon- 

19* 



222 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ument which the nation, some twenty years ago, 
erected to his memory. As they wandered on they 
passed Ballachniel, the farm-house where Burns 
spent a few weeks in his nineteenth year, with a 
maternal uncle, for the purpose of attending school ; 
and where he fell in with " the charming fillette 
that overset his trigonometry, and sent him oif at a 
tangent from his studies." 

They left May bole on the right, a town famous in 
Scottish story, and where John Knox held the mem- 
orable dispute with Quintan Kennedy, the abbot 
of Crossraguell, in 1562. The house on whose 
balcony they stood and argued, was standing twenty- 
five years ago, and was known as the " Red Lion 
Hotel." The travellers almost passed in sight of 
the ruins of Turnbery Castle, the maternal mansion 
of Robert Bruce. The whole district is famous in 
the historic and literary annals of the land. It is 
the scene of Burns's " Halloween :" nor did the 
bard forget to honour " The Bruce" in this legen- 
dary lay. 

" Amanor the bonny winding banks, 

Where Doon runs, wimpling clear, 
Where Bruce once ruled the martial ranks 

And shook the Carrick spear ; 
Some merry, friendly, country folks 

Together did convene." 

They journeyed on leisurly by the banks of the 
Girvan, " the fairy haunted stream" of Burns. The 
scenery was most picturesque and romantic in the 
deep woody glens. It was summer, and the trees 



SUMMER ON THE GIRVAN. 223 

were gorgeously arrayed in their emerald robes. 
The blue sky of that latitude was like a far-off in- 
verted cerulean ocean. Here and there floated a 
fantastic and gigantic white cloud before the disc 
of the sun ; precipitous and castellated like a celes- 
tial avalanche, broken loose from some world occu- 
pied by angels. The air was redolent with odo- 
riferous thymes. The lark ever and anon sprung 
up before them, carrying with hiui his lyre, and 
filling the vast concave around with his earth song. 
It was a glorious summer day. They stopped at 
Dailly, only to admire with more minuteness the 
beauty of the locality. This is the parish where 
Dr. Hill was settled when called to the professorial 
department of theology, in the Divinity Hall at 
Glasgow, a few years ago ; the son of the eminent 
theologian of that name. By sundown they reached 
the town of Girvan, their destination for the night, 
after a most delightful journey of some thirty miles. 

The village of Girvan stands at the influx of the 
river into the Firth of Clyde, and immediately op- 
posite to Ailsa Craig, a huge insulated rock, two 
miles in circumference, rising to the height of one 
thousand feet, and fifteen miles out in the sea. 
The tourists filled up the hours of twilight in tak- 
ing views of the village and surrounding scenery. 
Nor did they retire until the shadows of night fell 
over the ocean and the land, like a veil let down 
from the sky. 

In the morning they resumed their tour ; having 
resolved to go as far as the sliores of Loch Ryan, 



224 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and the source of the river Luce. They ascended 
Ardmillan hill, four miles from Girvan, and which 
was only a little way out of their course. David Pol- 
lok alleges that the incident referred to in the fifth 
book of '•' The Course of Time," took place on this 
occasion. Mr. Marr and the poet is said to have 
carried stones up the hill, and to have rolled them 
down from the top. This is the passage : — 

" And from my path I with my friend have turned 
A man of excellent mind and excellent heart, 
And climbed the neighbouring hill with arduous step, 
Fetching from distant cairn, or from the earth 
Digging with labour sore, the ponderous stone ; 
Which having carried to the highest top, 
We downward rolled." 

Now, there are several reasons which lead us to 
refer the scene here described to Balageich hill, in 
the immediate vicinity of Moorhouse ; and to iden- 
tify the friend, as Dr. Dobson, who is clearly alluded 
to in the passage preceding this. He was an ama- 
teur optician. 

" And I have seen a man, a worthy man 
In happy mood conversing with a fly ; 
And as he through his glass, made by himself, 
Beheld its wondrous eye, and plumage fine, 
From leaping scarce he kept for perfect joy. 



>; 



It seems improbable that the travellers would 
fatigue themselves by carrying stones up this hill at 
that time ; besides, there were three persons present, 
and allusion is made only to one. " The neighbour. 



SCENES NEAR BALLANTRAE. 225 

ing hill," in " The Course of Time," was considered 
by Dr. Dobson, as referring to Balageich hill, the 
highest in the upper part of Renfrewshire. It is a 
thousand feet above the level of the sea, and has a 
prospect of one hundred miles. Here the poet and 
his friend. Dr. Dobson, often engaged in this very- 
amusement. 

The road at that time, between Girvan and Bal- 
lantrae lay along the top of the precipitous battle- 
ments overhanging the sea. There are no parapets 
to ward the traveller off from the perilous ledge. 
The waves make everlasting music to the ea,r, as 
they foam and dash several hundred feet below ; 
and the fresh breeze of the ocean exhilarates and 
braces. It is a wild and spirit-stirring pathway. 
In the west, amid the waters are seen Ailsa Crais: : 
and farther west, at the very gate of the Atlantic 
ocean, the Mull of Kintyre, and a peninsula of 
Scotland, on the one side of it ; and Ireland on the 
other. It is an observatory from which an angei 
might obtain earth-views of surpassing magnificence 
and sublimity. 

The poet and his fellow-tourists spent the next 
night on the top of the lofty hills south of Bal- 
lantrae, at a farm-house where they were kindly 
lodged. They extended their pilgrimage no farther 
than Cairn Ryan. An engagement made by the 
poet to meet his friend, Mr. Pollok of Buchhaven, 
interfered with a farther exploration of scenery. 
In returning they travelled several miles in sight of 
Loch Ryan, and up the beautiful vale of Glenapp. 



226 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

He who would fill his mind with the rich and varied 
scenery of that district, must travel over it on foot. 
There are more positions than one, where the two 
inlets are visible, the Bay of Luce and Loch Ryan. 
There are also memorials of the ocean on the high- 
est part of the isthmus, pointing to a time when all 
that promontory was submerged. The whole scene 
too, is full of historic interest, which, doubtless, 
formed the topic of this triad. There was, only a 
few miles distant, the ruins of the abbey of Glen- 
luce, of which Michael Scott was abbot, in the days 
of Dante, and under which, tradition has it, still is 
buried his magical hbrary. -Peden, too, of holy 
memory, preached for years in that rude, sparsely 
settled, mountain tract. 

The family of Mr. Mc Williams, where Mr. Pol- 
lok lodged in Girvan, on his return homeward, re- 
member him yet, as a man of wonderful knowledge, 
and fascinating conversational talent. Who can 
presume to measure the influence of this short tour, 
on his subsequent writings. " The Course of Time" 
abounds with beautiful etchings of scenery and 
natural phenomena. 

We travelled over the same district of country, 
in our boyhood, and some year or two after this 
tour of the poet and his friends. In that youthful 
excursion we lingered for days amid the memorable 
scenes. We turned aside to visit every renowned 
spot, and mused on every hill top. We read Burns 
in the midst of the scenes he pourtrays, and the story 
of " The Bruce," with other Jays of the olden time, 



LETTER. 227 

which we carried with us, in the localities immor- 
talized. It was om' privilege too, to be thrown into 
the society of more than one person who was rich 
in legendary lore. The memory of that pilgrimage 
is like an oasis to us, on the horizon of the past. 

Scarcely had the poet returned to Moorhouse, 
before he began to retouch the two tales, which had 
both been returned to him. He resolved to rewrite 
*' Ralph Gemmell." The manuscript of " The Per- 
secuted Family," however, required only a few cor- 
rections, which he made, and forwarded to his 
brother for disposal, with the following letter. 

" Moorhouse^ June 15, 1824. 

<' Dear Brother, — I received yours of June 7th in due time, I 
cannot return the manuscript of ' Ralph Gemmell' before the end 
of next week, as I intend to write it all out again. I will make 
several corrections, and some little additions. Your determination 
of burning the manuscript, rather than agree to the unworthy pro- 
posal of the bookseller, was worthy both of you and me. 

" I would not have written to you till next week, had I not, being a 
kind of post-office or secretary for Auchindinny affairs, had beside me 
some letters for you, which I have already kept too long. I take the 
opportunity of sending with them the manuscript of ' The Persecuted 
Family,' which you have not yet seen. It is longer, you will see, 
than ' Ralph ;' and, although chiefly designed for youth, intended for 
youth at a more advanced period. It may be read, perhaps, by young 
men. The design of the piece is, to show what powerful consolation 
religion can give in most unpleasing circumstances in life ; and, while 
it guards the mind of the reader against the bad tendency of those 
widely-spread books which ridicule the memories of our persecuted 
ancestors, to impress his mind with a veneration of their firmness, 
and inspire into it the ardour of their piety. You will judge whether 
I have been successful or not. Make what corrections you can. 
Leave no errors uncorrected. It has now a considerable number — 



228 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

slips in orthography and other Httle things. It is rather badly writ- 
ten too ; if you have any difficulty in making out any word, score 
it out, and write it more plainly above. Two of the chapters want 
mottoes. I will send them to you with ' Ralph,' and you will write 
them. Give it to Mr. Robertson, along with the other manuscript 
when it comes. I shall mention it to him in a letter which, God 
willing, I shall send along with the manuscript. 

" I have been in the west country lately, but have no news. 

"R. POLLOK." 

The following week he wrote again, as follows : — 

" Moor house, June 22, 1824. 

" Dear Brother, — Be so kind as to give the manuscripts to Mr. 
Robertson. I will give them no more correction, — neither the one 
nor the other of them. If you can sell them as they are, one or 
both of them, good and well ; if not, I shall light my pipe with them. 
And I would far rather do this last than give them for a trifle. 1 
do not look for fame from them. If they do not bring me money, 
then why should I print them 1 If Robertson prints them, you will 
perhaps correct the sheets. 

" I should like very well to come and see you, but I am out of 
travelling expenses. My father talks of coming to see you about 
the beginning of July. I do not say that he will certainly be, how- 
ever; but I am advising him, and he says he would like very much. 

" I expect to hear from you soon ; and when you do write, let me 
have some local news — something about Auchindinny. Be as short 
as you can on the manuscripts business, as the simple thought of 
them is very apt to sicken me. 

" R. POLLOK." 

While the author was in this anxious state of 
mind about the tales, he wrote the following beautiful 
and tender ode : — 

INVITATION. 

In the woodlands Love is singing, 
Health salutes the rosy day, 



INVITATION. 229 

Hill and dale with joy are ringing, 
Rise, my love, and come away ! 
"Winter, with his snowy head, 
To his icy den has fled ; 
Frost severe, and tempest high, 
With the shivering monarch fly ; 
Bound in chains, with him they dwell, 
Far away in horrid cell. 
And gay Spring, in gown of green, 
Frisking o'er the lawn is seen — 
Frisking o'er the lawn and mountain, 
Bathing in the silver fountain, 
Singing in the arboured shade, 
And weeping tears of joy on every blade. 

With her forth the Graces sally, 

Painting flowers wiih nature's skill; 
Lilies dwelling in the valley, 

Daisies shining on the lull ; 
And the primrose of the glen, 
Far retired from haunt of men ; 
And the violet meek and mild, 
Stooping modest o'er the wild ; 
And a thousand flowers that grow. 
Where hermit-streams to reed of shepherd flow. 
Mirth, on tiptoe ever dancing, 

Leaps before the leaf-clad queen ; 
Joy, with eye seraphic glancing, 

Tripping close behind is seen. 
And the goddess kind to thee, 
Lyda ! comes in sportive glee. 
Health, the maid forever young, 
Trips the gamesome group among ; 
Health, that loves to see the Day 
Yoke his steeds on eastern way ; 
Health, with cheek of rosy hue, 
Bathed in Morning's holy dew. 
Sighing Zephyr, too, attends. 
Where her flowery footpath wends j 

20 



230 I^lil^ Oi' POLLOK. 

And from every fanning wing, 

Dipt in Life's immortal spring — 

Spring that flows before the throne 

Of the always-ancient One — 

Sheds balmy life in viewless shower, 

Like oil of gladness seen on herb and flower. 

Hark ! the sons of harmony 

Sing the dirge of Winter's reign : 
Sing a song of jubilee 

To the Spring returned again. 
Thrush and blackbird in the grove, 
Tune their harps to notes of love ; 
Tune their harps to Zephyr's sighj 
And the streamlet murmuring by; 
And the simple linnet too. 
With beak wet in silver dew, 
From the poplar's lofty pride, 
To its half-consenting bride 
Sings a song as soft and clear 
As Ausonia's daughters hear, 
When the lovesick serenade 
In their ravished ear is made. 
Deep in bosom of the wood 
The stockdove coos in amorous mood ; 
Warbling high in heaven, hark ! 
How the silver-throated lark, 
Hovering on the the roseate cloud, 
Anthems sings so sweet, so loud ! 
From the dewy hillock's side 
Joyous lists his honest bride. 
Joyous lists, or flits on high 
To meet her lover in the sky ; 
And the cuckoo, voice of spring. 

Surest pledge of sunshine day, 
Ever fanning with his wing 

Flora on her HIied way. 
Sends o'er mountain, vale, and grot, 
His never-changing, ever-pleasing note. 



liWITATlON. 

Lyda ! rise and come away ; 

Nature smiles and calls for thee. 
Wilt thou choose the garden gay, 

Or the wilderness with me, 
Far remote from busy life, 
And the angry growl of strife, 
And from fashion's rude control, 
And the tongue of slander foul ; 
Where the rillet travels through 
Waste of brown and sombre hue ; 
Where the canach's silken hair 
Lonely waves on desert air ; 
Where the echo of the glen 
Ne'er repeats the din of men ; 
And the hare in safety roves, 
And the plover sings his loves 1 
Yes, my Lyda, we will go, 
Where the desert-streamlets flow, 
To the scenes where love is free, 
To the scenes all pure Uke thee ; 
Nought but holy eyes above. 
Looking, smiling on our love. 
Lyda ! there, thy eye to me 
May look all its ecstasy ; 
^And thy swelling bosom there. 
As the virgin lily fair, 
Prest to mine in free caress, 
May heave forth all its paradise of bliss. 

'Tis morn, my love ! 'tis morn of Spring, 

O'er the dew the roe is bounding; 
Hark ! a thousand voices sing, 

Hark ! Aurora's horn is sounding: 
And the glorious god of Day 
Starts upon his eastern way, 
And his golden ringlets fly 
Over vale and mountain high ; 
Over sleepy rock and hill, 
Loud cascade and gentle rill, 



231 



232 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Leafy wood and shining lake, 
Flowery mead and flowery brake ; 
Over silent wilderness, 
Where modest love retires to feel his bliss. 
In the woodlands love is singing , 

Health salutes the rosy Day ; 
Hill and dale with joy are ringing, 

Rise, my love , and come away ! 

In the beginning of August he took up his res- 
idence again in Glasgow, and entered on his third 
session in the Divinity Hall. His first discourse 
during the term, was a critical discussion of 1 Peter 

IV. 18: — "And if the righteous scarcely be saved, 
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" 
He devoted much time and research to the prep- 
aration of it. Besides the erudition which it ex- 
hibited, it was characterized by striking and original 
thoughts. The professor pronounced a favourable 
judgment on it. 

The second exercise was a sermon on 1 Thes. 

V. 21 : — " Prove all things." It was delivered be- 
fore a committee of Presbytery in Paisley : and 
what adds to the interest of the incident is the fact, 
that, every member of that committee but one, ex- 
pressed their disapprobation of it. Some went so 
far as to refuse to sustain it, in the first instance. 
Dr. Ferrier, however, soon gave a new colouring to 
the affair. He proceeded to give an elaborate crit- 
icism of it ; taking up seriatim, the plan, doctrine, 
style, and effect. Nor was there one of the com- 
mittee, after his lucid exposition and defence, who 
attempted to interpose a negative in sustaining it. 



UNIVERSITY DIVINITY HALL. 233 

Judicatories should always judge according to intel- 
ligent and well-defined criteria. Nor is any one 
competent to sit in the judicative seat, who has not 
prayerfully computed his responsibility. 

In a week or two after the close of the Secession 
Hall, he enrolled himself a regular student in the 
Divinity Hall of the University, which belongs to 
the estabHshed Kirk. His object was to secure a 
thorough theological course ; as well as to obtain 
access to the large library connected with it. He 
wrote one sermon this first session, on Matthew v. 8. 
" Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see 
God." Dr. Stevenson Macgill was Professor of 
Divinity, and stood high as a learned and able the- 
ologian. 

Previous to his entering the hall, in August, he 
had forwarded to his brother David the manuscript 
of " The Persecuted Family," to be submitted to 
certain publishers in Edinburgh ; and during the 
session re-wrote the tale of " Ralph Gemmell." 
Early in November he took it to Edinburgh him- 
self, and sold the copy wright of both to Mr. Robert- 
son. The following letter to his brother, gives the 
details. 

" Edinburgh, November 22, 1824. 

" Dear Brother, — I have completed a bargain with Mr. Robert- 
son, Five guineas I have received, you know. I am to receive 
fifteen guineas more for the two manuscripts before the middle of 
Januiiry. The bargain is on black and white. 

" Mr. Robertson is very fond I should write more for him. But 
God only knows what I shall do. I have written to Rev. Mr. 

20* 



234 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Elliot, informing him that I cannot go to Ford to teach. Do you 
approve of it 1 

" I mean to set off for Glasgow to-morrow morning. T am just 
now in Mr. Sommerville's inn, Grassmarket. 

" ' The Persecuted Family,' is pretty correct, to have had no cor- 
recter but a printer's reader. It has many errors, however, espe- 
cially in punctuation. 

" I shall expect to hear from you in the course of ten days. I 

wish you would remember me to Miss ; I mean the good 

one. I cannot bear the thought of being totally forgotten by her. 
May God be with you, my dear brother ! 

" R. POLLOK." 

These two tales have been incorporated into the 
Sabbath School literature of this century, both in 
Great Britain and America. The " Tales of the Cov- 
enanters," by Pollok, are almost as extensively known 
as the " Annals of the Poor" by Leigh Richmond. 
" The Persecuted Family" is a simple and unadorned 
story of a minister's family, which perished during 
the troubles in Scotland. Mr Bruce is traced from 
childhood onward to his martyrdom. His beloved 
wife, Eliza Englis, with their beautiful children, 
Andrew and Mary, are interwoven into his biog- 
raphy, like leaves and buds and flowers into a bower 
of love. There is no plot ; no effort at sketching. 
If the painter was to put the story on canvas, he 
would exhibit the powers of darkness vanquishing 
for a season, the angels of mercy and beauty. Sad 
indeed is the story of the Presbyterian minister ; 
yet, his is but the exponent of hundreds in that day. 

It is surprising that Mr. Pollok did not weave 
into this tale of " The Persecuted Family,'*' the his- 
tory of the seventy deposed Presbyterian ministers 



TALES OF THE COVENANTERS. 235 

in Ireland ; and the three hundred and fifty in Scot- 
land, which were contemporary with Mr. Bruce. 
This would have been a field for his gifted pen and 
religious enthusiasm. But, perhaps God is reserv- 
ing that subject for some Pollok of this day, to rouse 
the British youth by it, to repudiate the Laudian 
movement of this quadrant of the century. 

The story of " Ralph Gemmell" is perhaps richer 
in incident and description than the former. Like 
the two other tales of the series, " Helen of the 
Glen," and " The Persecuted Family," it is that of 
a single family, with a larger number of persons 
and events crowded into it. The parents of Ralph 
are in comfortable circumstances. The father is a 
man of the world, and a friend of the Curates. The 
mother is pious, and a friend of the Covenanters. The 
two children are also unlike in their tastes. The 
younger imbibing the views of the father ; the elder 
that of the mother. When Ralph is in his fifteenth 
year, his mother dies. The story increases in in- 
terest and incident. Ralph is providentially led to 
a haunt of the Covenanters, but is surprised, after a 
visit or two, by the dragoons ; and is only saved 
from death by the interposition of his father. It 
may be enough to add, that Ralph is banished ul- 
timately to the Island of Jamaica, and continues in 
slavery till the Revolution in 1690 ; when he re- 
turns in time to receive his father's blessing, see his 
contrition, and become the heir of the family prop- 
erty and honours. The story is replete with relig* 



236 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ious interest, and nfiagnifies the grace and special 
providence of God. 

The distance between earth and the habitations 
of the seraphim is to be measured by the time which 
an angel would take to perform the journey, and 
not by the leagues of space between. So it is with 
human life ; it is the thoughts which have held au- 
dience in the chamber-hall of the mind, which should 
chronicle the soul's age, and not the mere revolu- 
tion of suns and moons. We hasten on, then, to 
the last earthly epoch of the author of " The Course 
of Time." 



BOOK IV. 



HISTORY OF HIS SUBSEQUENT LIFE AND DEATH ; WITH 
SERTATIONS ON HIS POEM AND CHARACTER. 



" When thus he lay, 
Forlorn of heart, withered and desolate 
As leaf of Autumn, which the wolfish winds, 
Selecting from its failing sisters, chase 
Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes, 
And leave it there alone to be forgotten 
Eternally, — God passed in mercy by, 
His praise be ever new! and on him breathed, 
And bade him live." 



CHAPTER I. 

" Yet less he sought his own renown, than wished 
To have the eternal images of truth 
And beauty, pictured in his verse, admired. 
'Twas these, taking immortal shape and form 
Beneath his eye, that charmed his midnight watch, 
And oft his soul with awful transports shook 
Of happiness, unfelt by other men," 

It is eminently profitable to trace the rise and 
origin of great enterprises, to wander back through 
labyrinths, and to reach the primeval gateway. It 
is like an effort to discover the original sources of 
the Nile, and the head waters of the Niger. Is it 
not a suggestive and delightful exercise to trace the 
" Paradiso'*' of Dante to his pencil sketch of an 
angel ; and to find that it was his inability to set 
forth fully the celestial personage in colours, which 
induced him to utter his thoughts about it in song ? 
Is it not also possible to go back over the scenes 
and ideal realms of the " Gerusalemme Liberata" 
of Tasso, and detect the germ of the whole ? Is not 
the episode of Sophronia and Olinda an immortal 
portraiture of the poet himself and the divine Le- 
onora ? Nor is it detractive to. the mighty prince 
of sacred song, John Milton, to connect his " Par- 
adise Lost" with the suggestive poems of the Bishop 
of Avignon, written in the sixth century, '-' On the 



240 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Creation," " Original Sin," and the " Judgment." 
The great epic history of the " Reformation," was 
suggested to D'Aubigne thirty years ago, in the 
Square of Eisenach, at the foot of the Wartburg, 
on the occasion of the third centenary jubilee of 
the Reformation. The " Task" of Cowper had its 
origin in a lady's mandate ; and there is something 
like the relationship of parent and child existing 
between " The Farmer's Ingle" of Ferguson, and 
*' The Cottar's Saturday Night" of Burns. 

Now, like these and other great canticles and 
histories, " The Course of Time" had an origin, one 
too apparently accidental to the poet, — not so, how- 
ever to Deity ; — for it was as truly an ordained in- 
cipiency, as that of the acorn which the winds 
shake from the tree, and in the course of centuries 
becomes an umbrageous oak. One night, in De- 
cember, 1824, in the city of Glasgow, Robert Pol- 
lok lifted a book from his table, which happened to 
be " Hartley's Oratory," a collection of pieces in 
prose and verse. In turning the leaves over, his 
eye fell on Byron's piece, entitled, " Darkness," and 
while reading it, the idea of the Resurrection was 
suggested to him. On laying the book down, the 
plan of a poem on the Resurrection succeeded this 
first idea, when he suddenly seized a pen, and wrote 
a portion of what is the seventh book of " The 
Course of Time," beginning with this line : — 

<' In costumed glory bright, that morn the sun 
Rose, visiting the earth with light, and heat, 
And joy," 



CONCEPTION OF " THE COURSE OF TIME." 241 

At intervals during several successive weeks, he 
revolved his plan; and had written at least one 
thousand lines, when it was thought expedient for 
him to remove to Moorhouse, to be near his mother, 
who was dying of consumption. One night shortly 
after his return there, while sitting alone, cogitating 
at midnight, the present plan of the poem suddenly 
burst on his mind ; a continent of thought arose and 
stood before him. Perhaps he had a vision like that 
of the angels, when they stood during the third day 
of the creation, on a!i isthmus of the universe, and 
saw the earth come forth from the abyss of waters, 
at the mandate of the Almighty. He said, in speak- 
ing of it on one occasion, that he shook with ex- 
citement. Nor is this strange. Who can tell what 
connection there was betw^een his thoughts and the 
seraphim encamped about him ? It may be that 
spirits of men made perfect, ministered unseen at 
the moment. It was the plan of a poem which they 
may have known would affect seriously the interests 
of the three worlds, heaven, hell, and earth. 

The philosophic doctrine concerning the associ- 
ation of ideas, derives confirmation from this origin 
of " The Course of Time." " Darkness" is the pro- 
duction of a mind, to which evidently ha,d not oc- 
curred the ideas of God, human responsibility, im- 
mortality, or the resurrection of man, during the 
composition of it. It presents a portraiture of a 
desolate and extinct world. It is such a scene as 
the Atheist might imagine. The very horribleness 
of the picture makes the Christian rejoice in the 
21 



242 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

doctrines of Revelation. Byron has succeeded in 
this sketch, by letting loose the spirit of destruction, 
who annihilates every thing. It is an equation of 
negative quantities. He withdraws the sun, moon, 
and stars ; burns up all the cities, villages, and huts 
on earth ; kindles and consumes in a sudden con- 
flagration all the forests and combustible materials 
of time ; and extinguishes every volcano : famine is 
then introduced to add to the dismalness of the 
catastrophe ; and the tragedy closes, by the utter 
and ultimate stoppage of the throbbing arteries of 
physical life : — 

'• The world was void, 
The populous and the powerful was a lump, 
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — 
A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay." 

In all this aggregation of graphic horrors, man is 
placed in the same category with matter and the 
animal family. " The Sadducees said there was no 
Resurrection, neither angel nor spirit." 

When Pollok seized his pen, after reading the 
lines on " Darkness," to utter his thoughts about the 
Resurrection, which they had suggested, he felt as a 
Christian. He could not write as an Atheist. Light 
is changed and affected by the medium through 
which it passes ; so is thought by the mind where it 
lodges. Every page of the seventh book of " The 
Course of Time," which is a canticle founded on 
the same scene as that of '• Darkness," is illuminated 
by the light of Revelation. He could not assay in 



THE TWO BARDS. 243 

song the burial of the earth, without the imagery 
of Scripture. 

" In horrible suspense all mortals stood ; 
And as they stood and listened, chariots were heard, 
Rolling in heaven. Revealed in flaming fire, 
The angel of God appeared in stature vast, 
Blazing, and, lifting up his hand on high. 
By Him that lives forever, swore, that Time 
Should be no more." 

Byron sung, — 

'' The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars 
Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
Ray less and pathless," 

On the other hand, Pollok, — 

" The sun 
Was wrapped in darkness and his beams returned 
Up to the throne of God," 

The Christian poet saw every thing in the light 
of the Gospel. The Bible cast its celestial ra- 
dience on every scene within the horizon of his in- 
tellect. " Darkness" suggested the topic ; but re- 
ligion enabled him to pourtray it in the rich and 
variegated colours of immortality. As the crimson 
glory of the setting sun is refracted, and rendered 
more immaculate by the evening cloud, so is song 
heightened and made more beautiful by passing 
through a sanctified and spiritual medium. 

It is easy to see how " The Course of Time" in 
its present form was suggested to the author's mind, 



244 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

out of the primary idea of a poem on the Resurrec- 
tion. He was in the chamber of his dying mother. 
It was midnight. Her eyes were closed in sleep. 
He alone was wakeful and vigilant. He thought 
of the approaching decease of that mother, and of her 
early teachings and frequent prayers for him. Her 
actions lay before him like a chart. He followed 
her in thought through the valley and shadow of 
death, to the judgment, and into the house of many 
mansions. Life, death, eternity stood out before 
him. But this was the track which led him as if to 
a mountain height, from which he saw " The Course 
of Time." The Resurrection then became a mere 
interlude in the history of man's being, an isthmus 
between time gone and long eternity. " The His- 
tory of Man" opened up a vista, in which the awful 
realities of earth, hell, heaven, time, and eternity 
could be introduced ! 

The two following letters were written to his 
brother David, while the poem was in its incipient 
plan, that of the Resurrection, and before the whole 
scheme had been adumbrated. Like prophecy, it 
was first revealed in part, to his own mind. 

" Glasgow, January 8, 1825. 

" Dear Brother, — I wish you a happy new year. 

" I have been in Glasgow since I saw you, constantly. My 
health is not in a very dancing mood ; but I believe it is not much 
worse than men of my habits are wont to possess it. Before the 
new year I had about three weeks of glorious study. Soaring in 
the pure ether of eternity, and linking my thoughts to the everlast- 
ing throne, I felt the healthy breezes of immortality revive my in- 
tellectual nerves, and found a point, unshaken and unthreatened by 



LETTER. 245 

the rockings and stormings of this world. Blank verse, the lan- 
guage of assembled gods, the language of eternity, was the form 
into which my thoughts fell. Some of them, I trust, shall outUve 
me in this world ; and nothing, I hope, shall make me ashamed to 
meet them in the next. Thoughts, acquirements, appendages of 
any kind, that cannot be carried with us out of thne into the help 
and solace of our eternity, but must be left the unredeemed and un- 
redeemable of death, are httle worth harbouring about us. It is 
the everlastingness of a thing that gives it weight and importance. 
And surely it is not impossible, even now, to have thoughts and 
ideas that may be transported over the vale of death, and not be re- 
fused the stamp and signature of the Eternal King. No doubt, the 
clearest eye must unscale when it comes in view of the uncreated 
light ; and the purest earthly thought must wash itself before it en- 
ter into the holy of holies on high ; but there are different eyes 
from those which have never tried to see, and there are different 
thoughts from those which must be exiled forever, beyond tlie con- 
fines of purity. 

" I was broken up at the new year, or rather a week before it ; 
first, by the arrival of Mr. Mackenzie, who came into the same 
room with me ; and then by my going to Moorhouse, when I met 
the Messrs. Taylor, with their sister Margaret, and also Miss 
Campbell. Our mother wishes me to tell you that she is in her 
' silly ordinary.' The rest of your friends, in this country, for aught 
I know, are all well. 

" You will receive with this letter your gaiters and ink, which 
you spoke of I send you also the verses you spoke of in your let- 
ter. Those on ' Divine Benignity' are good only here and there, 
and not fit to be shown except to some uncritical brain. 

" 1 suppose you are still studying eloquence, and thinking of pro- 
ducing effect. In this pursuit it is proper to exercise and accustom 
the physical organs; but the grand thing is the love of virtue, 
' How he should be eloquent who is not withal a good man, I see 
not,' says John Milton ; and how he whose mind is kindled into 
the love of virtue, whose circumcised fancy delights to hover around 
the throne of the Ancient of Days, and whose intellect, turning the 
leaves of man's destiny, grasps the whole interests of his time and 
his eternity, should choose to be aught else but eloquent, when he 
takes upon him to instruct and guide his fellow-men, I find not 
proof of 

21* 



•246 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

" Mr. Mackenzie, who came to Glasgow to deliver his discourses, 
set off for England this morning. I am therefore left alone, and 
hope soon to be able to think some again. It is very precarious, 
however. I am still, by fits, subject to that Zaaraian wastefulness 
of soul that refuses all comfort, and loathes all exercise. 

" I mean to remove on Tuesday first, to No. 80 Surrey Street, 
Laurieston ; but as it is uncertain, address your first letter to me, 
Mrs. Walker, 6 Oxford Lane, Laurieston, and write soon. I prom- 
ise to answer you sooner in future. 

" R, POLLOK." 

His brother, in replying to this, took occasion to 
say:— 

" I am glad that you have ' weeks of glorious study/ and espe- 
cially, that your health permits you to prosecute such study. May 
the Eternal and Infinite Spirit inform your soul with an immortal 
argument, and enable you to conduct it to your own happiness in 
time, and blessedness in eternity ; and to His praise, honour, and 
glory forever and ever 1" 

The poet enters more fully into the nature of the 
subject which has charmed his harp. 

" Glasgow^ February 7, 1825. 
" No. 1 Norfolk Court, Laurieston. 
" Dear Brother, — I received your letter to-day, and answer it 
thus speedily, because I should have written before now, having 
beside me, rather too long, sundry letters and parcels for you. Mar- 
garet's answer, which has been beside me for some time, comes with 
this. As she writes, our father delays writing for some time, but 
wishes to hear from you often. I had him in Glasgow with me the 
other night, hale, fresh, and jocund : — he is a wonderful man at 
sixty-eight. He was very happy. We conversed much ; and 
among other things, when I told him that, from the course of think- 
ing and study in which I knew you to be engaged, I had no doubt 
that you would be more than an ordinarily useful man, if God 
spared you, in this world ; there was a feeling of delight on his 
countenance which repaid him many a trouble. 



LETTER. 247 

"John, whom I saw to-day, would answer your letter; but he 
can never please himself in writing. His taste, it seems, has got 
before his ability to execute — a thing, by the by, very apt to happen 
with the learned as well as with an honest farmer — the contempla- 
tion of excellence being far more agreeable to the sluggish nature 
of man than the production of it. John, however, wishes me, with 
all brotherly affection on his part, and all love and prayer for you, 
to relate, that he and Mrs. PoUok are quite well ; and that his 
family, who have all had the chin-cough, are getting well through. 
But John has still a very severe cough, and is thereby kept from 
school. It is impossible to keep him within doors, or to get him 
under any kindly and regular nursing : for he is one of those ever- 
planning, ever-active, humanly-uncontrollable spirits, that Provi- 
dence takes under its own management; and sometimes, when 
common men, looking with amazement on their seemingly un- 
guided career, shake their ponderous heads with awful gravity, as 
if they saw some planet cut off from its orbit, and with fearfully 
erroneous adventure rushing on, ruining and ruined, accomplishes 
by their ministry its wonderful designs, and gives them an inheri- 
tance of everlasting renown ; and further, with seeming folly, far 
overreaches the wisdom of the wise. The many friends who have 
a regardful eye on John, his own generous and manly disposition, 
with the blessing of God, which we all pray for, will, I trust, bring 
him to ripe years not unhonourably. 

" Janet Young is with Mrs. Gilmour. She has been unwell for 
some time. I was out and saw her lately ; she is getting better, al- 
though slowly, for it is not easy to get out of chin-coughs, raeazles, 
and the like, with which she has been afflicted. Jane is very care- 
ful about her ; and I shall not neglect to see that proper remedies be 
applied, although I hope she will need few. Her father left Glas- 
gow early in January for St, Domingo : you will see that this island 
is within the tropics — a very dangerous adventure, therefore, for a 
European. David is a man well calculated for all hardship and en- 
durance ; and if fortune be kind — I use the word fortune, because 
Providence may be kind to him although he should never return, or 
return poorer than he went out, but fortune is considered to act 
kindly only when she prospers a man according to his wishes — if 
fortune be kind, I understand he may gain one. two, or three thou- 
sand pounds by his adventure.* If it be for his own and his fam- 
* Mr. Young died of fever six days after his landing on St Domingo. 



248 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ily's good, I wish he may. He is, with some failings, a very worthy 
man, 

" I have not been atMoorhouse since about the beginning of this 
year ; but I understand our mother is complaining rather more these 
two or three weeks. I need not tell you that you ought to write 
her a letter— and let it be in a plain hand, for which your last to 
me deserves praise— telling her such little particulars about yourself 
and your neighbourhood as you think may please her ; and not for- 
getting to comfort and cheer her with the substantial comforts of re- 
ligion. She will be greatly amused and heartened by such a letter 
— and age and want of health have need of comfort. 

" With this I send you some coffee, made of malt. It cost me 
only five pence, and it will serve you a long time. Foreign coffee 
is often mixed and adulterated. One knows what he is drinking 
when he drinks this ; and does not need to ask whether the wind 
blows from Spain or no, when he sees the bottom of his canister. 
I like it well, and so does Mr. Marr, We owe the knowledge of it 
to Dr. Dobson, a curious man you know. With a dry dinner it 
makes a capital beverage. 

" I forget now what I wrote in my last letter to you, but I gather 
from yours, which is in as masterly a style as any thing I have got 
from you, that I have been soaring above this world altogether. 
But surely I did not mean to leave behind me any thing pure and 
good. It is, indeed, always one of the petitions to the God of my 
fathers, that I may be greatly interested in the concerns and des- 
tinies of my fellow-men. 

" The subject of the poem in which I am engaged is the Resurrec- 
tion — a glorious argument ; and if that Divine Spirit, who giveth 
all thought and all utterance, be not offended with my prayers, it 
shall not be ungloriously managed. It affords me, besides giving 
great room to the imagination, a plan for the rigid depictment of 
the characters of men at that time when all but character shall have 
left them. I have already, much to my satisfaction, well nigh com- 
pleted the first book of nearly a thousand verses. When I have 
time, I shall send some of it for your revisal. My health stands out 
pretty well, although it is some days run down. 

" I wish you would send me a copy of the lines * On Envy ;' per- 
haps I may make some use of them. Let me hear from you soon ; 
and may the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ be your 
counsellor and guide. '= R. Pollqk." 



PROGRESS OF THE POEM. 249 

The poem continues to rise before us like a tem- 
ple, as we peruse these letters. We see first the 
foundation, and then the abutments. The Hues " On 
Envy," written years before, and to which we have 
formerly referred, were recalled and introduced into 
the gallery of characters, whom he particularizes 
in the eighth book. 

" It was a congregation vast of men, 
Of unappendaged and unvarnished men, 
Of plain unceremonious human beings, 
Of all but moral character bereaved." 

Who would not regret to have the living picture 
of envy obliterated from the page of song ? What 
philosopher has ever more faithfully defined it ? 

" What made the man of envy what he was, 
Was worth in others, vileness in himself" 

It is highly probable that the following letters 
were written after he had conceived the poem as it 
now is, and after, he began to sing, — 

" The world at dawn, at midday, and decline ; 
Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damned, 
And God's eternal government approved." 

" Moor house, April 4, 1825. 
'< Dear Brother, — Our mother is very weak, and wishes me to 
tell you that she has little expectation of regaining health. She 
came into the room a few minutes ago with your letter in her hand, 
and wished me to tell you that she had read it all over and over 
again with great satisfaction. She wishes to say further, that it 
should be the great business of all, and especially of those who pro- 
fess to teach others, to set forth, in their doctrine and conduct, the 



250 I^IFE OF POLLOK. 

loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Jesus Christ. * These,' she 
says, ' are most astonishing ! the tongues of men and angels will 
never be able to speak half their praise.' It is her desire that you 
may just, hke the old Apostle Paul, ' determine not to know any 
thing' in preaching, ' save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.' She 
adds, ' this is the main thing. Other things are useful ; but who- 
ever wants this, I am afraid, his speed will not be great. I am ex- 
traordinarily pleased that you both seem to be sound on this point. 
I cannot use words sufficient to recommend to you the loveliness, 
beauty, and condescension of Christ; but I have thought often 
about it. That the Creator should become man for the sake of sin- 
ners ! Surely such infinite love will never be manifested again ! 
Let it be the business of your hves to set it forth ; it can never be 
praised enough. It gives me wonderful satisfaction to think, that 
he' — meaning you — ' conducts himself becomingly. I wished to say 
this much, and it is all I have to say ; and I think it better that you 
write it to him, than to wait till he come. Perhaps I might not be 
able to say it then.' 

" I have given you the above as nearly as possible in my moth- 
er's own words. 

" Our mother rises generally about twelve or one o'clock noon. 
She grows weaker, and has little doubt that the time of her de- 
parture is at hand. She is, indeed, in many respects like our uncle 
David, a few weeks before he died. She speaks with the same 
composure of death, with the same warmth of redeeming love, and 
is very like one whom the great Forerunner will soon receive into 
the everlasting mansions. 

" She has not been able to read the copy of ' The Persecuted Fam- 
ily,' that I sent her. It is not the tender parts that she is un- 
able for, it is the religious sentiments. ' They agree so with her 
own, and are,' she says, 'so strongly expressed, that they penetrate 
and agitate her so much, that she dare not risk her weakness with 
the reading of them ; but has had to lay the book aside after a sen- 
tence or two.' 

" I am in the very heart of the poem, and greatly upheld. 

«' I am happy to tell you that all your friends here keep a lively 
remembrance of you. I shall say no more just now, as we expect 
to see you immediately. 

" R. POLLOK." 



LETTER. 251 

After David hid returned to Auchindinny, from 

a visit to his dying parent, the poet writes again. 

" Moorhouse, May 14, 1825. 

'' Deak Brother, — I expected you to write to me when you got 
home to Auchindinny ; but I have heard neither hilt nor hair of 
you. According to the nature of things, however, I suppose you 
got safely home. 

" Our mother is considerably weaker, and more spent than when 
you were here. The cough is very severe ; the fineness of the 
weather seems to bring her no relief Indeed there is little hope of 
her recovery. She expects you to write to her. The rest of us are 
all well, 

" I have nearly completed a third book of my poem ; and I have 
been in general, able to please myself The description of the 
good minister I intend to send to you, when I shall have time to 
copy it out for you. When the present book is finished, I intend to 
rest a little — perhaps during the two summer months, as I find, 
whenever the weather gets warm, my capacity for severe thinking 
diminishes. I shall correct some of what I have written ; and I 
have, besides, two sermons to compose, one for the Presbytery and 
one for the Hall, which will employ some of my time. 

» R. POLLOK." 



CHAPTER II. 

*' Another feature in the ways of God 
That wondrous seemed, and made some men complain, 
Was the unequal gill of worldly things." 

From the facts brought to view in the Scriptures 
concerning death, there can be no doubt entertained, 
but that there are embassies of angels continually 
going up from earth to heaven with holy, disem- 
bodied souls. The angels, '" are they not all minister- 
ing spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall 
be heirs of salvation ?" While Elisha talked with 
Elijah, " behold there appeared a chariot of fire, and 
horses of fire, and parted them both asunder ; and 
Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." It is 
even so in the death of every believer; "and it 
came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried 
by the angels into Abraham's bosom." If the 
veil was rent which separates the visible from the 
invisible, and we could look within, then would we 
see countless throngs of seraphim, ever hurrying 
away from the battlements of earth with emancipa- 
ted spirits. The outlet from time and the inlet to 
eternity must be crowded with souls day and night, 
like the thoroughfares of an earth city when a 
monarch visits it. Besides, there must be caval- 
cades of angels swellina; the retinue of these souls. 



DEATH OF THE POEt's MOTHER. 253 

It may be that there is added to all this circum- 
stance, the presence of souls long gone away from 
earth, who have come to meet the new arrived 
one ; and welcome it home to the " house of many 
mansions." " Blessed are the dead who die in the 
Lord." Death to a righteous being is the first in- 
terlude in a celestial triumph. It is that part of it 
which precedes the drawing aside of the curtain. 
No supernatural phenomena were visible on the 
hills around Moorhouse, during the night of July 3, 
1825 ; and yet angelic legions must have been con- 
gregated there, because Mrs. Pollok, the mother of 
the poet, finished her pilgrimage. She died as the 
Christian alone can do, and for her "to die was 
gain." She ran " with patience the race set before 
her," and was taken away to have her name en- 
rolled amid " the great cloud of witnesses." Her 
memory is immortal : her illustrious son affirmed, 
after he had written " The Course of Time," that 
"it was only an embodiment of his mother's theol- 
ogy." She is worthy of a place in the same galaxy 
of matrons with Hagar, Hannah, Lois, and Eunice. 
The following letter, written to the absent son 
and brother by the poet, immediately after her 
departure, shows that she was another trophy of 
grace. 

" MoorJwuse, July 4, 1825. 

" Dear Brother,— Last night, a few minutes before midnight, 

our dear mother departed this life. I can at present give you no 

particulars. I may only say, that she died in ' the full assurance 

of hope,' closing her eyes with as much calmness and composure as 

22 



254 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ever she did in the days of her health. The funeral is appointed 

for Tuesday the 8th current. But v/s expect you to come off as 
soon as you receiv^e this note. " R. Pollok." 

Four days after her decease, her husband, sons 
and kindred " carried her to her burial," in the vil- 
lage graveyard, where, in 1828, we saw the green 
grass waving over her grave. As the ashes of the 
poet have been permitted to sleep in England ; and 
as this lone graveyard would doubtless have been 
his place of sepulture, if he had died at Moorhouse ; 
would it not be discharging a bounden duty, for his 
country to erect a suitable monument to his memory 
over the remains of his mother, and inscribe on one 
side of it, — 

TO 

MARGARET, 

THE MOTHER 

AND 

THEOLOGICAL TEACHER 

OF 

ROBERT POLLOK. 

In the month of August which followed the death 
of this gifted and pious mother, Robert entered on 
his fourth session, in the Secession Theological 
Hall ; attending also in the succeeding winter, a 
second session in the Divinity Hall connected with 
the University. It was during this session in the 
Secession Divinity Hall that the two portraits of 



PORTRAITS OF DOCTOR DICK. 255 

Dr. Dick were taken, at the solicitation of the stu- 
dents. The one by George Watson, of Edniburgh 
and the other by Chester Harding, an American 
artist. The poet's criticism of these pictures will 
not soon be forgotten. " The former one," he said, 
" brought out the hterary character of the professor, 
and was hker what he appeared in the Hall ; the 
other was better adapted for the domestic circle." 
They are both elegant specimens of art. Dr. Dick 
received his degree of Doctor of Divinity from the 
college of Princeton, in 1815, ten years prior to this 
event. He is well known in this country, not only 
for his lectures " On Theology," and " On The Acts 
of the Apostles," but also for his essays " On the 
Necessity of Confessions of Faith," and " On Inspi- 
ration." 

In the interval between the close of the session 
of the Secession Divinity Hall, and the commence- 
ment of the other, the poet, his brother, and two 
other theological students, one of whom was Mr. 
Borthwick, now a member of the British Parliament, 
took an excursion to Loch Lomond ; — the most 
beautiful and varied in scenery of all the Scottish 
lakes. It is the reservoir of a large number of 
streamlets, and over its surface of thirty square 
miles, are sprinkled as many islets. A poet who 
describes them, says, — 

" The fairy crowds 
Of islands which together he, 
As quietly as spots of sky, 

Among the evening clouds." 



256 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Smollet has consecrated in undying verse, the 
outlet of this most picturesque lake, in his exquisite 
" Ode to Leven Water." Mr. Pollok and his friends 
visited every locality in the immediate region. They 
ascended and stood on the top of " The Lofty Ben- 
lomond," the choicest position for a magnificent view 
of the lake and its islands ; nor came away until 
the wild grandeur of the scene had woven itself into 
their trains of thought. In a nook of the cabin of 
the steamboat, which conveyed them back to Glas- 
gow, on the bosom of the Clyde, they grouped to- 
gether and delivered in turn a short speech, as an 
exponent of the feelings produced by the sublime 
and awe-inspiring grandeur of nature. The speech 
of the poet, on this occasion, described in vivid 
colouring the magnificent phenomena which they 
had seen, — then adverted to the feelings which the 
scenery produced in his bosom. Here he turned 
aside to notice the necessity of high mental power, 
to comprehend and embody in language such august 
objects and scenes. He became eloquent and phi- 
losophical as he proceeded to sketch a portrait of in- 
tellectual greatness. He showed that it was essen- 
tial to greatness that the mind should stoop to set 
forth a subject, rather than struggle to grasp it. On 
sitting down, his brother hinted to him, that the 
views which he had advanced were original and 
valuable, and ought to be carefully treasured up for 
future use. 

It is interesting to know that these thoughts were 
the original germ of his description of Byron, in the 



GERM OF THE DESCRIPTION OF BYRON. 257 

end of the fourth book of the Poem. His high 
theme in " The Course of Time," led him to sing 
of intellectual greatness. To do this effectively, he 
selected a single mind. The thoughts uttered in 
reference to his visit to Loch Lomond, instantly 
came up, 

" And sought admission in his song ;" 

the wild scenery of the place naturally suggested 
Byron, who had been nurtured in the vicinity of the 
wilder and more rugged regions of " Lochnagar.'* 
It is probable that the lines of the bard of " Childe 
Harold," concerning Braemar, occured to him : 

" Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses ! 

In you let the minions of luxury rove ; 
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes. 

Though still they are sacred to freedom and love : 
Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, 

Around their white summits though elements war ; 
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, 

I sigh for the valley of dark Loch-na-Gar, 

" Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wandered." 

It requires no rigid analysis to detect every suc- 
cinct step in Mr. Pollok's train of reflection. Ben 
Lomond and Lochnagar were as relative terms in 
his mind. The one suggested the other ; but Loch- 
nagar can never be thought of without the name of 
Byron. Hence the facility with which he is intro- 
duced into " The Course of Time :" 

•' Take one example, to our purpose quite 
A man of rank, and of capricious soul. 

22* 



258 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Who riches had, and fame, beyond desire, 
An heir of flattery, to titles born, 
And reputation, and luxurious life." 

After much description of his character and habits, 
the following beautiful and graphic lines occur : — 

" With nature's self 
He seemed an old acquaintance, free to jest 
At will with all her glorious majesty. 
He laid his hand upon ' the ocean's mane,' 
And played familiar with his hoary locks." 

It is probable that every valuable train of reflec- 
tion is indissolubly conjoined to some preceding 
mental state. There are but four processes, or 
steps in the train of reflection which produced this 
famous portraiture of Byron. There is first, the 
idea of intellectual greatness ; second, that of Ben 
Lomond; third, that of Lochnagar ; and fourth, 
Byron. Here the succession of ideas is as clearly 
distinguishable as the banners in a triumphal pro- 
cession. 

The following letter exhibits the perturbed and 
perplexed state of Mr. Pollok's mind immediately 
after this excursion. 

" Glasgoio, Nov. 14, 1825. 

" Dear Brother, — You will think me long in writing, but the 
cause was that till within these few days I had nothing to write. I 
spent my time after you left us in a state of distressing hesitation. 
Whether to stay at Moorhous^e or go to Glasgow, whether to write 
something for immediate sale, or enter upon my old subject — these 
contrarieties perplexed me. But strong inclination and irresistible, 



LETTER. 259 

determined me to my former pursuit. Thoughts poured in on all 

quarters, and I have had a week's most prosperous study. This is 
likely to be the last winter that I shall have so much freedom ; and 
I thought it best to have as much of my poem done as possible. 
What is too long laid aside is apt to be forgotten. Besides, I con- 
sider it as a great duty before me, and I am most desirous to have 
it accomplished. This determination decides the other difficulty — I 
must remain at Moorhouse. My health is pretty good, and I shall 
try to study in moderation. The worst thing is, there is too little 
company to draw me from my own thoughts ; but you must write 
frequently, and I will answer you punctually, and this will help to 
lighten the time to us both. I pity your solitude. The want of 
literary company is a great evil, but you are better situated than 
I am. 

" You will be writing, or meaning to write some. Time is now 
to us becoming precious. A half year should produce much fruit. 
We have been long cultivating, long acquiring ; it is high time to 
reap the increase. Do not let yourself be low-spirited. ' Rejoice 
evermore.' I had a few days of that horror with which I was op- 
pressed autumn was a year, not just so ill, and it is gone. Beware 
of it, it is a dreadful tiling. 

" I should like to see a sermon on the text, Eccles. vii. 16, ' Be 
not righteous over much.' Might you not send me a discourse upon 
it by the new year 1 But if you have a plan of study laid down, 
do not let this interfere with it. 

" I have no news. We are all well. The west country folk are 
all well, and inquired after you with great kindness. 

" Write as soon as you can, and tell me as much as you can. 
Address to the care of Mr. John Forrester, 33 Rose Street, Hutche- 
son-town, and I shall get regularly whatever comes. 

" I write by post, because the difference of a single letter is 
trifling. 

" R POLLOK." 

The next letter in order is one which hfts the 
whole curtain up, and discloses not only his pecu- 
niary anxieties, but the very vacillations of his 
mind with regard to his future plans. How much 
of this trouble might have been alleviated by a sin- 



260 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

gle act of munificence by some one born to afflu- 
ence. But it is probable that God, who sees the 
thoughts before they arise in the human mind, 
knew that certain mental states were necessary to 
produce " The Course of Time :" hence he put into 
the hands of the bard, the cup mingled with the es- 
sential bitterness. 

It appears that he had written at this time, five 
books of the poem, but had not yet formed the con- 
ception of comprising it in ten. He speaks of com- 
pleting it in eight. Milton, indeed, first published 
" Paradise Lost" in ten books. In the second edi- 
tion, however, he divided the seventh and tenth 
books ; and with a few additional lines, enlarged it 
to twelve books. 

" Glasgow, Jan. 24, 1826. 

" Dear Brother, — No man had ever more to say to another 
man than I have to say to you just now^ ; but 1 must content my- 
self with saying but little after all. 

" To speak of myself first of all ; I have been at Moorhouse and 
in Glasgow, at Moorhouse and in Glasgow again, since I saw you ; 
and I am at this moment, while I write to you, at No. 1, Norfolk 
Court, Laurieston, where I was last year. When I wrote to you 
last I was in Glasgow, although I did not say so, for I had then de- 
termined to go to Moorhouse, and I did go ; but the coldness of the 
weather, and the badness of the house, and the heavy pressure of 
pecuniary concerns, when I was surrounded with a thousand 
thoughts, so overpowered my body and mind, that for some weeks I 
stooped down, and the billows passed over me. What I suffered in 
that time God alone knows ; it was less than I deserve, but it was 
much. But I cannot speak to you by writing. My father noticed 
the fearful and dangerous state of my mind, and insisted that I 
should go to Glasgow, hoping that company and better lodging 
might recover me ; and, indeed, although slowly, I did recover, and 



LETTER. 261 

resume my study. Some weeks passed, however, before I regained 
confidence in myself, for I felt as if my mind had been shattered to 
pieces. But I thank God, the Father of spirits, that he has again 
restored me all my intellectual vigour ; and although by going to 
the country at the new year I caught a cold, the effects of which 
have not entirely left me, I am vigorous in mind, and am three hun- 
dred verses in a third book since I began to study after the Hall. 
My success in the first book of the piece, which is now written, is 
beyond my own expectation. There are some strong descriptions 
in it ; but you are not to imagine it extraordinary. I rather doubt 
from your letter, that you overvalue it. 

" Now, be assured of this, that I would send a book or two to 
you with far more pleasure than you would receive them ; but I 
have nothing but one copy, and it would be risking it imprudently 
to send it so long a way. You will see the possil)ility of its miscar- 
rying, and the consequent irreparable loss — I mean to myself, for I 
do reckon it valuable — and it is perfectly impossible that I can 
transcribe it just now ; neither my health nor my time will permit 
me. I have said this much, that you may acquit me of any shadow 
of blame for not sending you any of the poem at this time. I re- 
peat it again, that you may see it is one of the strongest motives 
which impels me to write ; and there are parts of it in which I have 
your gratification before me at the very moment I am writing; but 
you see plainly that, at present, I cannot send any of it. If we are 
spared we shall soon meet. I cannot finish my poem in less than 
eight books ; five are written. Excuse me for talking so long of 
myself and the subject of my study. 

" I should now like to answer your letter which I received, I 
think, about a fortnight ago ; but how am I to answer it 1 You 
are prosperous in regard to your business, as I learn from your letter, 
and likewise from Mr. Campbell, who speaks of you most kindly. 
You lay the difficulties of teaching as fully before the mind as they 
can be laid ; and I am convinced that they are as you say. But I 
do not like the reflections at the end. although I have made them a 
hundred times myself; not from the same causes, but from causes 
equally powerful. My manner of thinking and writing — the man- 
ner I have of generalizing man, unfits me very much for entering 
into that detail which is necessary for a preacher. Nay, I often 
think, that I could not take interest in many of those subjects which 
it is a minister's most imperative duty to take interest in. Now, 



262 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

you have difficulties — your situation has disadvantages ; but, permit 
me to say, it has very great advantages too, I mention only that 
habit of teaching — of detailed activity — of instilling knowledge into 
the uncultivated mind, and of entering heartily into the concerns 
of those around us, which your employment has an irresistible ten- 
dency to create — which habit, however much you may undervalue 
it, is most essential to the accompUshed minister of the Gospel ; and 
it is the want of this habit in myself, and the difficulty that I should 
now have in acquiring it, that I look upon as one of the greatest 
impediments in my way to usefulness as ' an instructor of the igno- 
rant :' for I fear that this shall, for a long time yet, be the great work 
of the minister of Christ. But I shall say no more ; every man must 
decide for himself. And when we have once asked, humbly, and 
resignedly, and devoutly, what our duty is in this world, at Him 
who sees ' the end from the beginning ;' and when we have calmly 
and rationally chosen what we think He inclines us to do, we have 
no reason to consult any longer ' with flesh and blood !' What is 
the advice of man, who sees so short a way before him 1 what is 
his praise '? what is his censure 1 To be fuohsh in his eyes, may be 
to fulfd the dictates of eternal wisdom ; to appear to him to fail, 
may be the most successful ; and to gain his apjtlause here, may 
be at the expense of a fair reputation in the world that endureth 
forever. Indeed, what is any wisdom but that wliich the Spirit of 
God doth impart 1 and what is any approbation but the approbation 
of that God who knoweth perfectly the true value of every thought, 
and word, and action, and the consequences of each forever and 
ever? 

" I have not seen our father since he received your letter, but I 
believe he is well ; and so are all the rest. In the west, too, your 
friends, I believe, are well ; but our little cousin, David Dickie, has 
been removed from this world. After a short illness, of what na- 
ture I do not remember particularly, as I could not go out to the 
funeral, — a closing seized him, which soon carried him off. He 
struggled very much, I heard, towards the end, for he was a strong 
boy ; but who that is born of woman shall fight with death 1 His 
father and mother are very much affected ; but you know all that 
I can tell you, and can reflect all that I can reflect. He died about 
ten days ago. 

" Mr. C , as he would tell you, has been much disappointed 

in the east. He is now home ; but I fear it shall be hard times 



MENACED BY CREDITORS. 263 

with him soon. He is much involved, and has neither money nor 
any prospect of gaining any immediately. Think of his lovely 
children and his most amiable of vfives — for she is truly so — and 
then, although your difficulties and mine be great, let us reflect hovsr 
much we might yet suffer ! ' A very wise reflection,' you will say ; 
so say I ; and it passes with me as it passes with you ; for my pe- 
cuniary difficulties are really so troublesome, that they destroy one- 
half of my vigour — so little power has philosophy when she comes 

with an empty hand ! But I am truly sorry for Mr. C ; I 

am truly sorry for his wife. I hope the sea shall be divided before 
him ! 

■ " I have been rather long in writing after all ; but I was not the 
less desirous to hear from you on that account. You would be 
wrong to think so for a moment. I sometimes appear careless to 
my best friends ; but no man has a roomier place for them in his 
heart, and there is no friend on earth that I love so much as you. 

" I wish you would write soon. I think I have told you my ad- 
dress somewhere in this endless letter, 

" R. POLLOK." 

From the next letter it appears that he was oc- 
cupied with the second book, and had just written 
the splendid and sublime description of the Bible : — 

" This lamp from off the everlasting throne." 

We cannot read the letter without bedimming it 
with our tears. He was " menaced by creditors" 
when sixty dollars would have freed him from em- 
barrassment. He wa^ also sick, and suffering when 
he wrote it, from a blister. 

" Glasgow, March 3, 1S2G. 

" Dear Brother, — 1 received your letter, of date lOth February, 
some time ago, and would have written according to your request, 
immediately ; but that I was lying-to, as the seamen say, in expec- 
tation of several letters, which I heard were in progress towards me, 
and which were, by my instrumentaUty, to be sent to you. Three 



264 LIFE OF rOLLOK. 

of these have arrived, wliich you will receive along with this. Two 
of them, I perceive, are from new correspondents, and I have no 
doubt you will be greatly pleased to hear from them. 

" I have not been in the country since the commencement of the 
year. By letter, or personal visits, however, I have had, since that 
time, communication with most of my friends. Our father, who has 
had rather a severe cold, is again well ; and, I believe, none of them 
at Moorhouse complain. 

" Mr. Marr is writing a letter to you at the same table at which 
I write — he will speak for himself; but had I any occasion to give 
you an account of him, I would take a pinion from the wing of 
night, and write dark and gloomy things ; — perhaps the man is 
smihng for all that, inwardly; but I speak merely of his outside. 

" Of myself I have little to say, and that little not very pleasant. 
I have finished since I began last winter, three books of my poem, 
and fin<l, at present, my health very much in need of repair. My 
breast troubles me — I have just had on a blister, and I hope it will 
do some good. I do not intend to write any more for some time, 
and shall pay every attention to my health. I am dreadfully 
hunted just now for money, and have been threatened with prose- 
cution from different quarters. And although my whole debt is not 
much above twenty pounds, and although twelve pounds would 
free me from present embarrassment, I have not the means of rais- 
ing even that small sum. Thus menaced with creditors, and 
scarcely able to fly out of their way, I am a little perplexed ; but I 
am labouring to let nothing take so much effect upon my spirits as 
to hurt my health. My present situation, however, does not afford 
the very first accommodation for one just come out of a severe men- 
tal exertion. The affection you show me in your letters comforts 
me much. Be not troubled, although I still prophesy dark things. 
My path does, indeed, seem at presenf to be surrounded with dif- 
ficulties ; but you remember that when the sea was before Moses, 
and the Egyptians behind, the Lord opened a way for him. Three 
or four books more will complete my poem. 

" I have copied you a few verses concerning the Bible. The 
young spirit who meets the old bard in heaven, after diverse con- 
versation about man, concludes that the wicked could never have 
done so foolishly if they had known their duty. Upon this, the old 
bard takes occasion to tell him they knew their duty perfectly, and 
in doing this gives a view of the Bible, The verses I have seat 



VISITS DUMFERMLINE. 265 

you are not the best specimen of poetry I could have sent you, but 
I have chosen them that you may see in how short a space I have 
attempted to deUneate the essentials of religion ; and that I may 
have your opinion of this very important part of my poem — iinpor- 
tant, both as it concerns myself, the world at large, and theological 
critics, who will, no doubt, quarrel much at this place. I have not 
conscious of supporting any sect. Write soon. 

"I must leave Glasgow in the course of two or three weeks. I 
shall therefore expect a letter before that time expires, 

"R. POLLOK." 

After the session closed in the Theoloo-ical Hall, 
he visited Auchindinny and Dumfermline, in which 
latter place he spent a few days with his cousin, 
Mr. Campbell, drinking in the inspirations of history 
connected with that section of the kingdom. On 
his return to Glasgow, he wrote to his brother 
David, and the letter is valuable as another link in 
the chain of his history. 

" Glasgow, May 18, 1826. 

<' Dear Brotheu,— You have right to be astonished that I have 
been so long in writing to you ; but a series of adverse circum- 
stances kept me waiting, from day to day, for better; and yet no 
better have come. I am in Glasgow, trying to do some good, and 
can do none. My health, although I think my constitution still 
vigorous, is by no means pleasant. My spirits however, are, except 
at intervals, nowise downcast. 

" I shall try to do what I can to extricate myself from this misery. 
I propose to send the first three books of my poem to Edinburgh. 
Give me your opinion on tliis. I am, &c., 

'•' R, POLLOK." 

It was a fortunate circumstance for the poet him- 
self, and the reading world, that this plan of publish- 
ing three books of the poem, was promptly and de- 
23 



266 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

cidedly opposed by his brother. Indeed, the world 
owes a debt of gratitude to David PoUok, for the 
judicious advice which he gave, as well as for the 
pecuniary aid which he afforded his brother. But 
it is better to insert David's letter touching this 
matter. 

" AucMndinny, May 25, 1826. 

" Dear Brother, — My opinion of publishing the first three books 
of your poem, is unaltered, and I believe unalterable. Even the 
stubbornest necessity would not, for aught I yet knovf, extort from 
me a reluctant consent to their publication alone. I would rather 
write the remaining books in a jail, where many a great and good 
man has written, than publish such a work in parts. Sooner would 
I see a first-rate man-of-war taken and launched, yjlank by plank, 
on the merciless ocean, than see that poem published, book by book, 
to the critic and thankless world. Could you not escape away to 
me, and vigorously prosecute your work to a close 1 I will get a 
room for you here, and you can eat with me. Notwithstanding, if 
you see that you cannot, without injuring your health, go on speed- 
ily with the poem, so that the immediate publication of the first 
three books is an absolute necessity, I would submit. But you 
must look away beyond the present pressure. The work will, one 
day, not only relieve yourself, but enable you to assist your friends. 

"I have, this instant, resolved to exert myself to the utmost to let 
you get time to finish your poem. Tell me how long you think it 
will take to finish it, without hurting your health ; and tell me 
freely how much you would like me to try to raise, and 1 will raise 
it, though I should ' stir heaven and earth.' For myself I cannot 
be importunate ; but when I speak for another, it is impossible to 
put me off. This is no ' South-Sea dream' — it will pay at last. Your 
health is every thing, and the composure of your mind. Write the 
moment you get this. Tell me where you lodge. 

" D. PoLLOK." 

We feel as if treading on sacred ground, when 
look'ng thus closely and minutely into the hearts of 



LETTER. 267 

these loving brothers ; but every feeling, aspiration, 
and anxiety of such a man as Robert Pollok, is ven- 
erated b}^ his admirers ; and they are essential to 
the history of the poem. The following letter is an 
explicit and ardent response to David's. 

" Glasgmo, May 28, 1826. 

" Dear Brother, — In this letter I shall endeavour to set before 
you my present circumstances, which will be the best answer I can 
give to the most brotherly and warm-hearted letter that ever was 
written by man. Let me still entreat you to beware of overrating 
my talents. It makes me tremble, lest I should disappoint your 
hopes. 

" You know that my desire is to finish the poem, in which I am 
engaged, before intermeddling with any other concern. But you 
know also, that to enable me to do this would require a consider- 
able quantity of money ; besides, when the work is finished, its suc- 
cess, at least as far as money is concerned, is very uncertain. Now, 
were I to keep back from ' holy orders,' after so long a preparation, 
and at the same time be gaining nothing, what would be the cry of 
those who already reproach me with my indolence 1 My money 
embarrassments, added to these ideas, make it difficult for me to 
pursue a work with calmness and serenity — difficult, I say, but not 
impossible ; for since your letter reached me, I have trampled many 
of those perplexing thoughts beneath my feet. It is not the assist- 
ance which you meditate, for you must not involve yourself on my 
account, but the spirit which it breathes. I feel as if I had all your 
vigour and fortitude added to my own. My resolution was waver- 
ing, my thoughts were driving at random, and my whole mental 
energies were dispersed and scattered, when your letter, hke the en- 
couraging voice of a well-known commander, in the hour of doubt- 
ful conflict, in a moment, collected the scattered and confirmed the 
wavering, so that I have determined, as far as my health will per- 
mit, calmly to pursue my poem ; and, in the strength of God, I hope 
to complete it. I did not intend to do any more to it during the 
summer ; but you have put me into the spirit, and I think I shall 
be able to finish a book before the Hall. As the weather is ex- 
tremely fine, I shall just remain at Moorhouse; and as I am in 



268 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

perfect good spirits, I have no doubt that I shall manage well 
enough. As to the probable time that I might take to finish the 
whole work, I cannot speak exactly ; but if all was well, 1 think it 
might be finished during the ensuing winter. I wrote as much last 
winter as I have now to write. This, then, is my present resolu- 
tion — I shall, if God so assist me, proceed with my poem, keeping 
up at the same time my theological studies, till after the Hall, when 
we shall take counsel of my future proceeding. 

" Remember me to all whom I mentioned in my last letter. Per- 
haps you have heard that Mr. Hugh Lockhart is gone. About six 
weeks or two months ago he retired into the world of spirits ; and 
indeed, was nearly a spirit before he set out. I expect to hear from 
you very soon, 

*' R, POLLOK." 

Immediately after he had dispatched this letter, 
he went out to Moorhouse ; and like an angel who 
has some great mission to execute, sat down to his 
poem, nor desisted for five weeks, when he com- 
pleted it. There is nothing equal to this effort in 
all the annals of literature. He wrote four books, 
containing three thousand five hundred lines in as 
many days, not excepting the Sabbaths. But the 
following letter from his own pen announces the 
wonderful fact. 

" Moorhouse, July 7, 1826. 

" Dear Brother, — It is with much pleasure that I am now able 
to tell you that I have finished my poem. Since I wrote to you 
last, I have written about three thousand five hundred verses ; 
which is considerably more than a hundred every successive day. 
This, you will see, was extraordinary expedition, to be continued 
so long ; and I neither can, nor wish to ascribe it to any thing but 
an extraordinary manifestation of Divine goodness. Although 
some nights I was on (he borders of fever, I rose every morning 
equally fresh, without one twitch of headache ; and, with all the 
impatience of a lover, hasted to my study. Towards the end of the 



THE POEM FINISHED. 269 

tenth book — for the whole consists often books — where the subject 
was overwhelmingly great, and where I, imleed, seemed to write 
from immediate inspiration, I felt the body beginning to give way. 
But now that I have finished, though thin with the great heat, and 
the almost unintermitted mental exercise, I am by no means lan- 
guishing and feeble. Since the 1st of June, which was the day 
I began to write last, we have had a Grecian atmosphere ; and I 
find the serenity of the heavens of incalculable benefit for mental 
pursuit. And I am now convinced that summer is the best season 
for great mental exertion ; because the heat promotes the circulation 
of the blood ; the stagnation of which is the great cause of misery 
to cogitative men. The serenity of mind which 1 have possessed is 
astonishing. Exalted on my native mountains, and writing often 
on the top of the very highest of them, I proceeded, from day to 
day, as if I had been in a world in which there was neither sin 
nor sickness, nor poverty. In the four books last written, I have 
succeeded in almost every instance, up to my wishes ; and, in many 
places, I have exceeded any thing that I had conceived. This is 
not boasting, remember. I only say that I have exceeded the de- 
gree of excellence which I had formerly thought of. 

" Thus you see what your last letter has effected ; for had it not 
been for it, I believe I should have been standing still where it 
found me ; so that I look upon it — I mean the coming of your let- 
ter — as being, in the hand of Providence, the most fortunate and 
happy occurrence of my life. 

" If we be all well, my poem may be ready for the press soon 
after the new year, which is the best time for publication. 

" Thus has it gone with me, and my pursuits ; every thing has 
favoured me. But the same weather, which has been of such in- 
calculable advantage to me, has, in a great measure, destroyed the 
hopes of the husbandman : the crops look ill, and the pasture- 
grounds are browner than in winter. 

" 1 beg your pardon, but I must say a little more about myself; 
how I shall get on, or whether get to the Hall or not, I do not see 
just now. If some person do not do something for me, it is plain I 
cannot get to the Hall. But let the result be what it may, if God 
grant me health, I shall, after a few weeks' rest, begin to correct 
and copy out my work. 

" I wish you would come home as soon as possible, as I shall 
need you somewhat in the correction. I suppose my poem is not 
23* 



270 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

shorter than ' Young's Night Thoughts.' It will take a good deal 
of labour to re-write it. 

" Remember me to any whom you think worthy. Let me hear 
from you directly ; and tell me what day I may expect you home. 
If you leave Auchindinny on the 1st of August, we may have a 
fortnight to spend at Moorhouse before the Hall. 

«' R. POLLOK." 

Thus was completed in nineteen months after its 
conception, " The Course of Time," the most useful 
and valuable poem of this segment of the nineteenth 
century. 



CHAPTER III. 

** Books of this sort, or sacred or profane, 
Which virtue helped, were titled not amiss 
The medicine of the mind : who read them, read 
Wisdom and was refreshed ; and his path 
Of pilgrimage with healthier step advanced." 

In one month after completing " The Course of 
Time," Mr. Pollok entered on his fifth and last ses- 
sion in the Divinity Hall. The discourse which had 
been prescribed to him was a dissertation on the 
Fall of Man, and founded on Genesis chapter iii., 
4th, 5th and 6th verses. It is said to have been rich 
and original in thought, as well as graphic in lan- 
guage and delineation. The professor said " it was 
just what a dissertation of the kind ought to be." 

After a lapse of twenty years, Mr. Pollok's student 
contemporaries, the Rev. Dr. King, Rev. Messrs. 
Williamson, and Harkness, &c., who still survive, all 
agree in stating, that his standing in the Hall was 
high both for knowledge and oratorical talent ; and 
although the class was large, consisting of between 
one and two hundred, he was not only well known, 
but greatly respected. In the weekly meetings held 
by the students for mutual improvement, he was 
prominent as a debater. He always spoke not only 
with great accuracy, but used the most significant 



272 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and appropriate words. His speeches during this 
last session, on the subject of the union of the Se- 
cession and Relief Bodies, were not only able but 
on several occasions eloquent. To use the sono- 
rous language of Coleridge in reference to Shak- 
speare, he was " a many minded man," thoroughly 
acquainted with every subject brought forward for 
discussion. In a word, he engraved the lineaments 
of his intellect, in imperishable lines, on the memo- 
ries of his student contemporaries. 

As soon as the theological session ended, after 
visiting and spending a few days at Moorhouse, he 
proceeded to Dunfermline in Fifeshire, with the view 
of transcribing " The Course of Time," and of be- 
ing near Edinburgh, where he intended to publish 
it, and to pass his examinations and trials for licen- 
sure. A short time prior to this, his cousin, JMr. 
John Campbell, had been appointed teacher in the 
drawing academy in Dunfermline. It was no doubt 
on account of the intimacy existing between them, 
that he was led to select this place in preference to 
Edinburgh, from which it was at least fifteen miles 
distant. 

It is unaccountable how Mr. Campbell did not 
avail himself of this opportunity, to make pencil 
sketches of some of the remarkable and pictorial 
scenes in the poem. He ought to have married the 
angel of Poesy to the spirit of Painting, or in He- 
brew Hiphil phrase, caused it to have been done. 
Flaxman and Martin have not only illustrated Dante 
and Milton, but given form and shape to the things 



PICTORIAL DESIGNS. 273 

which they conceived in the rapturous moments of 
inspiration. The designs too, appear to be essen- 
tial to the poems, and are to them what souls will 
be to the resurrection bodies. Who, having seen, 
can ever forget the wonderful designs of Pandemo- 
nium, the Mustering of the Warrior Angels, and the 
Expulsion from Paradise of the Paradise Lost ; or 
the terrific and shadowy etchings of Hell and Pur- 
gatory, and the sublime, ethereal outlines of Gabriel 
and the spirits of beauty and holiness in the Divina 
Comedia. What scenes for the creative artist abound 
in " The Course of Time !" There is that of the an- 
gel separating the righteous from the wicked ; the 
Bow appearing at the Judgment ; Michael summon- 
ing worlds to Judgment ; the omens of earth's disso- 
lution ; the wall of hell ; the undying worm ; the 
archangel's picture of the burning earth ; the dying 
mother ; the meeting of the lovers ; the maniac ; 
'•'Scotia's northern battlement of hills ;" indeed there 
is no end to the catalogue, for the poem is a magnifi- 
cent gallery of poetical portraitures. Has there been 
any thing written during this century which is half 
so rich in spiritual and celestial scenery ? There is 
a harvest of fame to reap in it for the creative and 
inspired artists of both continents ; and let the first 
who enters into this untouched world of designs, 
pourtray in the outset that inimitable description of 
him who, 

" With old bards of honouraole name 
Measured his soul severely ; and looked up 
To fame, ambitious of no second place." 



274 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

In one month after leaving Moorhouse, the poet 
wrote the following letter to his father : — 

" Dunfermline, Nov. 3, 182G. 

" Dear Father, — The sum of what I have to say to you at this 
time is, that 1 have been, in every respect, extremely comfortable 
since I came to this place. Kindness after kindness has been 
heaped upon me ; and invitations, by the most respectable inhabi- 
tants of the place, continue to increase, I have not, however, neg- 
lected my own pursuits. I have been here only a month, and I am 
approaching to a close with the correction and copying out of my 
poem ; so that two or three weeks will suffice for the finishing of it. 
I have, indeed, been much assisted in this wearisome process by a 
lady here, who has undertaken the writing out of four books of it, 
and will soon have them finished. It is astonishing with what fa- 
cility she reads my old crabbed manuscript. Indeed, I sometimes 
think she has got a little touch of inspiration. 

" To-morrow, I mean to go to Edinburgh, as the Presbytery meets 
on Tuesday next, and I mean to be in waiting for it. As soon as 
it is over, however, I intend to return to Dunfermline, and remain 
there till I have finished the correction of my poem. My lodgings 
are cheap and very comfortable. 

" I have heard nothing of David, but hope to meet him in Edin- 
burgh. How is Margaret and Janet Young, and John's family, 
and Mrs. Gilmour % Let me know how you all are. Tell all my 
friends who inquire for me, that I have wished you to give them 
my compliments. Tell young John that I remember him in partic- 
ular, and wish much to hear that he is learning something. And tell 
Janet Young that I wish her to be obedient to Margaret and Mrs. 
Gilmour, and to apply herself diligently to reading, writing, and 
sewing. 

" I have taken every care of my health since I left home, and I 
have reason to thank God that it is very good. 

" Mr. Campbell is well situated here. He and Mrs. Campbell 
are most kind ; and, although I do not live with them, but in lodg- 
ings, I am often there, and perfectly at home. 

" I wish you to write me directly, as I am wearying uncommonly 
to hear ftom you. Address to me, at Mr. Davidson's, bookseller, 



LINES TO MISS JANET SWAN. 275 

Dunfermline. I shall expect a letter in a few days. In the mean 
time, I am, dear father, your affectionate son, 

" R. POLLOK." 



The young lady whom he so highly compliments 
was Janet, the daughter of Mr. William Swan. He 
had been introduced to the family by his host, Mr. 
John Davidson, bookseller. She had just completed 
her school education, and as he complained of suf- 
fering from pain in the breast, by recopying the 
poem, she readily offered to aid him. It was the last 
four books which she transcribed. 

Miss Swan was soon married after this occur- 
rence, to a Mr. Thomas Black of Kirkaldy, and sub- 
sequently emigrated to the United States. On con- 
versing with her a few weeks ago, at her residence 
in New York, concerning the poet, she showed me 
an original autograph poem, which he presented to 
her a day or two after she had finished the delight- 
ful task allotted her. By her permission, the words 
are introduced here. It is a beautiful gem, anu 
worthy of the author of " The Course of Time." 

TO MISS JANET SWAN. 

Hush ! trumpet of fame, and ye wild passions strong 
That work like the spirits of the storm in my bosom ; 

I heed not your caUing, so loud and so long, 

Peace ! peace, till I sing of earth's loveliest blossom. 

Rest ! rest, ye forever, I will not obey : 

Tho' nought o'er my grave-bed but long grass be growing j 
I will stay by this blossom, the finest of May, 

The sweetest, and purest, where thousands are blowing. 



276 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Dews, pure as the fountain of bliss in the sky, 
Descend on this blossom ! so pare and so tender ; 

Ye Zephyrs as gentle as love's softest sigh. 

Breathe softer, and kinder, as o'er it ye wander. 

And thou, God of nature, the just and the good, 

This blossom so lovely, O guard it forever : — 
When the nostrils of winter, are heard in the wood, 

O, take it, and place it by life's holy river. 

According to the statement in the letter to his 
father, he visited Edinburgh on the day after writ- 
ing it ; and while there attending the sessions of the 
United Associate Presbytery and passing the exam- 
inations, he called on the celebrated publisher, Mr. 
Blackwood. He had no introduction to this gentle- 
man ; but simply stated to him that he had some 
manuscript poetry, which might lie in his way. The 
Bibliopolist agreed to look into the manuscript, if it 
was transmitted to him. 

As soon as the Presbytery closed its session, 
Mr. Pollok returned to Dunfermline when he assid- 
uously applied himself to the transcribing of the 
poem ; and in less than three weeks he was able to 
forward the whole of the manuscript to Mr. Black- 
wood, with which he sent the following letter : — 

" Dimfcrmline, Nov. 22, 1826. 

" Sir, — With this you will receive the manuscript of which I 
spoke to you, two or three weeks ago. It is a poem in ten books, 
embracing a great variety of subjects. You will judge of the man- 
ner in which these are handled, and, as I hope the poem will explain 
itself, I deem it unnecessary to say anything of the plan. It is, as 
far as I know, new ; the sentiments which I have expressed of re- 
ligion, which is especially treated of in the second book, are such as 



LETTER. 277 

seemed to me agreeable to the Word of God ; and in few instances, 
I believe, will they be found differing from the approved creed of 
our country. In the language, I have intentionally avoided a pom- 
pous and swelling phraseology, and have aimed mainly at strength 
and perspecuity. If the work take at all, it must take extensively, 
as all mankind are alike interested in the subject of it. 

" The first six books in my own hand, may be a little difficult to 
read ; the last four, which were copied by a young hand, are rather 
crov/ded in the words, and there are some inaccuracies ; but the 
person who is able to judge of the merit of the work, will also be 
able to correct for himself any thing of this kind. 

" I hope you will look into the manuscript as soon as it may suit 
your convenience, as I wish to have it published some time during 
the present winter. I intend to be in Edinburgh in the course of 
two weeks, and shall then call on you. In the mean time, as I 
have scarcely another complete copy of the poem, I shall be anxious 
to know if it has come safely into your hands ; will yop therefore 
be so kind as let me know 1 A note addressed to me at Mr, 
Davidson's, bookseller, Dunfermhne, will find me, 

" I am, sir, yours, " R, Pollok." 

Scarcely had he dispatched the manuscript and 
letter, until he sat down to prepare the Homily 
which the Presbytery had assigned him, as the first 
of his trial discourses. On the 5th of December he 
proceeded to Edinburgh to deliver it. It was, like 
every thing else from his pen, fresh, copious, didac- 
tic, and abounding with thought. It was unani- 
mously sustained by this reverend body. 

Being relieved from the farther sessions of the 
Presbytery, he hurried on to Mr. Blackwood's to 
learn the destiny of his poem. Who can tell the 
number and magnitude of the emotions which strug- 
gled in his soul during these moments. Blessed be 
God, that he lived in a land where the freedom of 
the press was guaranteed. If it had been Italy or 
24 



278 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Spain instead of Great Britain, " The Course of 
Time" would never have been printed, nor the au- 
thor of it been heard of after that instant. The 
Reformation of the sixteenth century must needs 
prepare the way for the publication of this poem in 
the nineteenth. The great Bibliopolist received him 
courteously ; saying that he had read the manu- 
script, and formed a very high opinion of the book. 
He also stated that he had received letters from 
Professor Wilson and Dr. Moir, to whom he had 
submitted it, expressing similar views. Having 
shown the poet these letters, he then proposed to 
publish a small edition, and allow him the one half 
of the profits. To which terms Mr. Pollok instantly 
agreed. It was also arranged that it should be put 
to the press about the first of January, 1827. 

On the 30th of December he changed his lodgings 
from Dunfermline to Edinburgh, that he might be 
on the spot to correct the proof sheets. At Mr. 
Campbell's solicitation he gave him the original copy 
of " The Course of Time," nor had he made many 
alterations in the transcription and revision of it. 
This gentleman subsequently settled in Belfast, Ire- 
land, and deposited this manuscript in the Belfast 
Museum, where it still remains. On Tuesday, the 
2nd of January, the Presbytery met, but Mr Pollok 
was under the necessity of postponing for a month, 
the dehvery of the Presbyterial lecture assigned 
him. 

From the following letter to his father, it appears 
that he had just been introduced to Professor Wil- 



LETTER. 279 

son. It was an era in his existence to have secured 
the friendship of such a man. The author of the 
" City of the Plague" and " Isle of Palms," cheered 
and comforted by his predictions the debilitated 
author of "The Course of Time." He said that he 
had only read two portions of the poem, the descrip- 
tions of Byron and the Millennium, and that they 
would compare favourably with any thing in English 
literature ; he added that the man who wrote them 
would not allow any thing to pass from his pen 
which was not good, and from these he had formed 
a high opinion of the poem. But the letter is a his- 
tory in itself 

" Edinburgh, Jan. 3, 1827. 

" Dear Father, — I have been waiting anxiously for some time, 
that I might have something decided to say about my poem ; and 
now I am happy to tell you that it is in the press. Mr. Blackwood, 
the only publisher in Scotland to whom I would have given it, has 
agreed to publish it. I have reserved the copy-right in my own 
hand, and, of course, have secured the profits for twenty-eight years 
— if there be any profits. 

" You have heard me speak of Professor Wilson : he is one of the 
greatest literary men of the age, and the principal contributor to 
' Blackwood's Magazine,' one of the most powerful reviews in 
Britain. But, better than this, his opinion of my work is extremely 
high — as high as my own, and, you know, that is high enough. I 
had a conversation with him to-day; and he has no doubt that, 
whatever may be the reception of the work at first, it will ultimately 
take a high and a lasting place among the English poetry. He was 
pleased, indeed, to compUment me very highly, and expressed great 
happiness that I come from Renfrewshire, which is his native shire 
also. But what is of more advantage to me than this, he has 
kindly offered to assist me, with all his might, in revising and cor- 
recting the sheets as they come through the press. It will gratify 



280 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

John a little to tell him that Mr. Wilson pointed out the character 
of Lord Byron, as ' a very extraordinary piece of writing:' he will 
remember that he thought it the best of the whole. 

" In six weeks, or two months at most, you may expect to see the 
work before the public ; and I beseech you prepare yourself for hear- 
ing most murderous criticisms. 

" It would be impossible to give you even a sketch of my history 
for the last six weeks. I met with extraordinary kindness in Dun- 
fermline ; but the necessity of my presence here compelled me to 
leave it. I came to Edinburgh on Saturday last, and am lodged 
most comfortably at 3 Davie Street, in the house of a Mr. Lawson, 
on the same stair-head with David. My health has been, upon the 
whole, good. David is well, and wishes you to consider the latter 
part of this letter as from him also. We are getting on with the 
Presbytery ; but they are, as Mr. Marr says, ' a curious class of 
men.' 

" You may tell my friends that the poem is in the press, and that 
they may expect copies of it in about two months. How are Mar- 
garet, John, and his family ; Mrs. Gilmour, young John, and Janet 
Young 1 That I do not write to them is, first, because I am really 
very much engaged ; and second, because this letter to you will tell 
them all I could say of moment. But it would gratify me exceed- 
ingly to hear from them ; tell them all to write. Tell all my friends 
that I remember them daily, and will be happy to hear from any of 
them. I would like very much if Miss Jean PoUok would write a 
letter, giving me the kind of lad-and-lass news of the place. I hope 
you have good health, David and I wish you and all our friends 
a happy new year. 

" The gentlemen here had no difficulty in reading my manuscript. 
Write to me immediately, and write by post, unless you have some 
parcel to send. Yours, dear father, 

" R, PoLLOK." 

He wrote again to his father some three weeks 
after this, and by it we are able to trace the history 
of the printing of the poem, and of his trials for 
licensure before the Presbytery, with the fullest de- 
tail. 



LETTER. 



281 



" Edinburgh, Jan. 22, 1837. 

" Dear Father,— I am surprised that I received no letter from 
you, and as I have an opportunity of sending this by Mr. Mitchell, 
I embrace it, to request you to let us know, as soon as possible, how 
you are. I wrote to you about two weeks ago, stating that my 
poem was in the press ; and, as I cannot suppose that you have not 
got the letter, I shall not repeat any thing which I said in it. Only 
I may mention that the printing is proceeding with as much rapid- 
ity as I can expect, and that Professor Wilson continues to render 
me all the assistance he can. 

" If you will examine the drawer of the old table on which I 
used to write, you will find, in some corner of it, or in some of the 
books which are lying in it, two sheets of paper, decently written, 
in a hand similar to that in which I am just writing ; one of the 
sheets begins with this line : — 

' As one who meditates at evening tide.' 

Send them to m.e with your letter, and as many letters as you can 
collect among my friends. If they are here in the course of a week 
or ten days, they will be in time. It is merely for a correction 
which I made on two lines, that I want the sheets. I know the 
correction pleased me, and I cannot now remember what it was. 
You must, therefore, be sure to send them. My lodgings are at 
Mr. Lawson's, 3 Davie Street. 

'• We are getting on with the Presbytery but slowly, on account 
of the great number of young men who are on trials before it ; 
nearly the half of those who finished their course in the Hall last 
session, are here. 

" David sends his compliments ; we are both well. Dr. Mitchell 
supped with with me this evening, and David and I go to breakfast 
with hiiU at the Crown Inn to-morrow morning. I tell you this 
circumstance, because it shows the attention of so worthy a gen- 
tleman, and because I feel myself happy in having seen a face from 
the west country, and, therefore, wish to be talking about it. 

" I had a letter the other day from the Rev. Robert Pollok, Buck- 
haven ; he seems to be gettmg on well ; I have not seen him, how- 
ever, since that night we were at jMoorhouse together. 

" It would be a curious thing to get a letter from . I can 

conceive hLm coming into the old spence and gathering up a bit of 
24* 



282 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

paper, a drop of ink, and some stump of an old pen or two, that 
have been left from the writing of ' The Course of Time' — and then 
coming back for a penknife — and then sitting down with all this 
apparatus about him. But when will his letter be finished'? lean 
see it will be a prodigious labour for him indeed. 

" We expect Margaret to write ; and I think Mrs. Gilmour, who 
has nothing to do, might send a line. 

" Tell young John and Janet Young, that I remember them 
daily, and they must not forget me. Tell little Robert and David, 
that I saw an elephant the other day, with a great long nose, which 
I will tell them about when I come home. Compliments to uncle's 
family. Dear Father, yours affectionately, 

" R. POLLOK." 

During the following two months, besides correct- 
ing the proof sheets, which was an arduous and 
fatiguing employment, he was preparing the Presby- 
terial exercises assigned him. The critical exercise 
which he wrote was founded on Heb. ii. 9, and 
the popular sermon on Psalm Ixxii. 17. His health 
all this time w^as in a precarious state, and there 
were days in which he could scarcely sit at his desk, 
on account of faintness and pain in his breast. On 
the 24th day of March, 1827, a week or two before 
his licensure to preach the Gospel, " The Course of 
Time" was published, a day memorable in the annals 
of religious poetry. We cannot think of the author 
student, without calling to mind the admonition in 
Ecclesiastes ; " Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do 
it with all thy might, for there is no work, nor 
device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, 
whither thou goest." Like a spirit who stands in 
the centre of a circle, he moved with such rapidity 
as to appear at every point of the circumference at 



SURPRISE OF THE NATION. 283 

the same instant. The voice of fame never led him 
to neglect the relative duties. The yearnings of his 
heart for his Moorland home were never affected by 
the magnificence of princely greatness. His affec- 
tion still clung to the objects of his early life. The 
following letter was written to his venerable parent 
immediately on the issuing of the poem from the 
press : — 

" Edinburgh, March 22, 1827. 

•' Dear Father, — You will receive, along with this, a parcel of 
my poem. I would have sent more copies of it, but it is expensive. 
You can lend your copy to Jean — Margaret, of course, will see it. 
The others you will send to the persons to whom they are addressed. 

" David has got your letter. It is well that you are in good 
health ; and I hope we shall soon get out of our difficulties. 

" It will be the first of May before the students be licensed in 
this Presbytery. We will likely be in the West country towards the 
end of May. We are both well, only I am a little worn with the 
application of the last two months. 

" Let us hear from you soon. I expect to hear from John. 

" Yours, affectionately. 

" R. POLLOK." 

" The Course of Time" came like a comet on the 
literary circles of Edinburgh and London. In less 
than one week after it appeared, it became the ab- 
sorbing topic of conversation. The harp of Scot- 
land had suddenly been struck by a master hand to 
notes of holy minstrelsy. The lays of the wizzard 
of the north were instantly hushed to let the ear of 
the nation hear this wondrous canticle. It took its 
place, like a planet of the largest class, among the 
other meteors in the firmament of song, and its bril- 
liancy has increased with every succeeding year. It 



284 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

is perhaps the most extensively read poem in the 
English language. 

In the month of April Mr. Pollok wrote his Pres- 
byterian Latin exercise, "In Ecclesia vel Scrip- 
tm-a in re fidei judex ?" passed his examinations in 
Hebrew and Church History, and on the 2nd day of 
May was licensed to preach the Gospel of God, 



CHAPTER n^ 

" The true, legitimate, anointed bard, 
Whose song through ages poured its melody, 
Was most severely thoughtful, most minute 
And accurate of observation, most 
Familiarly acquainted with all modes 
And phases of existence." 

"The Course of Time" opens at a point in the 
future eternity posterior to the Judgment, and long 
after 

«' The sun— earth's sun, and moon, and stars had ceased 
To number seasons, days, and months, and years, 
To mortal man." 

Time, which lies like an isthmus between two eter- 
nities, had disappeared. The very history of it had 
become antiquated in the memories of angels. The 
great highway in space, over which the earth had 
travelled in her annual circuits, had been deserted 
and desolate for cycles of eternity. The huge 
years of eternity had even accumulated, and made 
the angels comparatively old. It had not only 
seemed an interminable lapse of ages to those who 
wandered up and down in Hell's dark regions, since 
the lease of earth years had expired ; but a long, 
long period to the redeemed in Heaven. In a word. 



286 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

like a vasv deep, and broad river which has flowed 
for at least eight thousand years, and which sud- 
denly pours its last waters into the ocean ; — so time 
had run out and all was eternity, — boundless, an- 
cient, and enduring eternity. 

" Thus far the years had rolled, which none but God 
Doth number, when two sons, two youthful sons 
Of Paradise, ni conversation sweet," 

suddenly espied a stranger spirit, on wing of holy 
and potent ardour, ascending from some far-off 
world. He seemed the first of his order which had 
ever appeared to their eyes. He alighted near to 
them, when they, as becometh holy beings, saluted 
him with kindly welcome and sincere embrace. 
But scarcely had this greeting past, when they ob- 
served that his countenance was not radiant and 
happy like the faces of celestial citizens ; nor did 
they hesitate to allude to it. It is a law of beati- 
fied intelligences to seek to make every thing fe- 
licitous. These are their words to him : — 

" But what concern hangs on thy countenance 
Unwont within this place V 

The pilgrim is frank, and unfolds to their inquiry 
the cause of his apparent dejection. He tells them 
that on his way upward to Heaven, from his native 
star, out of curiosity for travel, he had ventured 
away beyond the visible creation, where utter noth- 
ing dwells ; and that as he voyaged alone over the 
unclaimed, and unmeasured continents of desert 



THE WALL OF HELL. 287 

gloom, on the very edge of darkness, he was sud- 
denly arrested in his flight, by direful sights and 
sounds ; and that as he paused to look and listen, 

" A wall of fiery adamant sprung up — 
Wall mountainous, tremendous, flaming high 
Above all flight of hope." 

" And on that mount, 
Sad figures traced in fire — not motionless — 
But imitating life." 

He surveyed attentively two of the horrible out- 
lines, which ever moved and turned upon that 
strange, mysterious wall ; nor could he liken them 
to any thing which he had seen or heard of His 
reason had no attribute by which to give them 
names. He felt as if they might perchance be 
shadows only, when a voice addressed his ear and 
whispering said, this is " Eternal death," and " that, 
the worm that never dies." 

Besides these frightful objects, he saw others 
limned in horrible emblazonry upon the burning 
wall. Upon it too was written, in characters of 
fire, which from their brightness shone hke meteors, 
these words : — 

" Who comes this way — behold, and fear to sin." 

Nor was this all ; below this burning wall, he saw 
an ocean all on fire, and down amidst its caverns, 
and along its banks, 

" Most miserable beings walked, 
Burning continually, yet unconsumed, 



288 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Forever wasting, yet enduring still ; 
Dying perpetually, yet never dead." 

There were also storms, and lightnings, and thun- 
ders disturbing the place ; so that he could not dis- 
tinctly hear the groans of the beings incarcerated. 
There were tremendous reverberations ever ascend- 
ing from the burning lake ; and these words, echoed 
by the thunders, as if God spoke through a trumpet : 

«' Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not." 

Nor staid he longer to observe such sights, and 
hear such sounds. It was a long journey, he said, 
from that dreadful place to the gate of Heaven, 
but he had never halted in his upward flight, nor 
been able once to forget, through all this pilgrim- 
age, the terrific scenery and sounds. He ended 
his story by a request that they would, on account 
of their larger knowledge, unfold to him the history 
of his vision. 

The two resident sons of Paradise replied in 
courteous phrase to the frightened pilgrim. They 
stated that they had heard of such a place ; but 
were not sufficiently informed about it, to com- 
municate in full to him, the facts relating to it. 
There was, however, they said, one in Heaven who 
could lift up the veil from off this dreadful scene, 
to whom they would take him. These are their 
words : — 

" One, an ancient bard of earth, 
Who, by the stream of life sitting in bliss, 



289 



Has oft beheld the eternal years complete 

The iniivhty circle round tlie throne of God ; 

Great in all learning, in all wisdom great, 

And great in song ; whose harp in lofty strain 

Tells frequently of what thy wonder craves, 

While round hiin gathering stand the youth of Heaven." 

Having thus spoken, ths triad of spirits unfolded 
their pinions, and sailing over the champaign of 
Heaven, reached 

" The sacred bower of that renowned bard;" 

who seeing their coming, arose and welcomed them. 
After the pilgrim spirit had been introduced, with- 
out apology, the two youthful sons of Paradise 
stated the object of their visit, and then requested 
the stranger to relate again his wonderful vision. 

The bard of Adam's race having heard the stran- 
ger repeat his story, and seeing the anxiety of all 
to understand the terrible mystery, informed them, 
that the place seen was Hell, and the persons, those 
who would not be redeemed ; but that in unfolding 
the facts relative to the persons and the place, he 
must use the dialect of earth, and 

« Sketch in brief the history of man." 

The triad of spirits gave their ears to this trans- 
cendent history ; for the golden harp of the earth 
bard was in his bower. It was a great banquet, for 
he sung, — 

" The world at dawn, at midday, and decline, 
Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damned. 
And God'b eternal government approved." 
25 



290 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

The plot, of the poem is eminently instructive, 
original, and Scriptural. It is also simple, credible, 
beautiful, and sublime. It is such a theme as the 
great evangelical poet would have chosen, if per- 
mitted to weave a canticle of his own. There are 
but four personages introduced, the three celestial 
auditors, and the redeemed earth bard. The scene 
is somewhere on the banks of that river which is 
"clear as crystal," in an evergreen bovver, formed 
by the curious taste of angels. The subject matter 
of the lay is the events which took place during 

*' The dark disastrous years of finished time." 

The poet gives such an account of the last, great, 
awful judgment of the human family, as to justify 
Providence in the condemnation of the wicked. In 
doing so, he is led to give a history of the redeinp- 
tion scheme, and its rejection by man. It is 



" Not a gaudy tale 
Not overfrauo-t with sense," 



but an authentic history woven out of the pages 
of Scripture and the annals of man. It sets forth 
with theological accuracy, and yet with the touch- 
ing eloquence of poetry, 

'■' The essential truth — time gone, the righteous saved, 
The wicked damned, and Providence approved." 

'' The Course of Time" is a splendid poetical ser- 



THE POEM A SERMON. 291 

mon, abounding with doctrinal exposition, history, 
dissertation, illustrative imagery and episodes of 
the most thrilling and tender character. It is a 
eulogy on God ; particularly on his attributes of 
holiness and justice. The author continually oc- 
cupies, in the estimation of the reader, the position 
of a mighty homolist, speaking in ominous and ter- 
rible phrase to the ungodly ; but in silver tones of 
mercy and hope to the righteous. The poem seems 
to have been written at the instance of God himself; 
and expressly for the best interests of man. It 
pleases the intellect as well as the moral nature. It 
has innumerable pictorial sights for the eye, and 
much curious description and minstrelsy for the ear. 
It is the song of a man, of an earth-born man, who 
has had many visions of God, and the unseen 
worlds. There is in it indications of acquaintance- 
ship with the spirits of Heaven and of Hell ; as if 
the author had visited their respective empires, like 
a traveller, and had returned to earth with his treas- 
ures of knowledge. He has large and copious 
knowledge of earth too. He seems as much at 
home in palaces as in the huts of poverty and mis- 
ery. He has a wonderful facility at bringing out 
the outhnes of vices and virtues. He has an in- 
tuitive knowledo;e of the thoucrhts and feelings in- 
cident to yoiith, beauty, maturity, infirmity and old 
age. He seems to have associated with the ig- 
norant, the idiot, and the philosopher. He never 
makes an effort to do any thing ; every picture 
which he sketches is done as if by a magician 



292 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

In the midst of poverty, and in the very chamber 
of sickness, he laughs at riches and luxury ; and 
w^hile he is known to be friendless and placeless, 
satirizes patronage and the apings of the man of 
influence and power. He immortalizes poets : of 
Dante he sings, — 

" Where this is, there is Hell, darker than aught 
That he, the bard three visioned, darkest saw :*' 

of Shakspeare, — 

" The bard by nature's hand anointed, 
In whose capacious, giant numbers rolled 
The passions of old Time :" 

of Milton,— 

" Great bard ! who used on earth a seraph's lyre, 
Whose numbers wandered through eternity 
And gave sweet foretaste of the heavenly harps :" 

of Thompson, — 

" The bard recorder of earth's seasons :" 

of Cowper, — 

" True bard of Zion, holy man ;" 

and of Byron, — 

« 

" Who soared untrodden heights, and seemed at home 
Where angels bashful looked." 

He writes the veritable history of the theatre, 
better than any who have preceded or followed him. 



PORTRAITURES IN THE POEM. 293 

" The theatre was from the very first 
The favourite haunt of sin, though honest men, 
Some very honest, wise and worthy men, 
Maintained it might be turned to good account ; 
And so perhaps it might, but never was." 

He paints novels, nor will the portraiture ever 
lose its correctness, while there is one written or 
read. «He lashes alike the bigoted theologian, the 
ungodly minister, the miser, and the epicure. He 
characterizes the duellist in the red letters of mur- 
der ; and gives the outline of the critic, with as 
much nonchalance, as if he had never perpetrated 
authorship. He execrates the dishonest judge ; and 
exhausts his indignation on 

" The Inquisition, model most complete 
Of perfect wickedness, where deeds were done — 
Deeds ! let them ne'er be named." 

He has prodigious sympathy for lovers ; for the 
slave ; for the victim of ruthless seduction, whose 
father's heart grows stone ; for the poor scholar, and 
the neglected beggar.. He apostrophizes the earth, 
the trees, the flowers, the hills, the winds, the great 
ocean, the moon : 

" Self-purifying, unpolluted sea ! 
Lover unchangeable, thy faithful breast 
Forever heaving to the lovely moon, 
That like a shy and holy virgin, robed 
In saintly white, walked nightly in the heavens, 
And to the everlasting serenade 
Gave gracious audience ; nor was wooed in vain." 

He is like a Chaldean in his admiration of the 
25* 



294 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

heavenly hosts, — the sun, moon, and stars. He 
knows the winds, and has an ear for their music. 
He holds up Christianity and Christ, — panegyrizes 
the Bible :— 

" This book, this holy book, in every line 
Marked with the seal of high divinity, 
On every leaf bedewed with drops of love 
Divine, and with the Eternal heraldry • 

And signature of God Almighty stampt 
From first to last — this ray of sacred light, 
This lamp, from off the everlasting throne, 
Mercy took down." 

Voltaire said that Homer conversed with the 
warriors which returned from the siege of Troy ; 
so Pollok had a thorough acquaintance with his 
characters. He believed his own poem, and it con- 
tains not only his creed, but memorials of his friends. 
It is a poem of friendship, a poem of home. His 
father, mother, sisters, brothers, friends, familiar 
scenes, all have a laurel wreath woven for them. 
If he is gloomy at times in his verse, it is because 
of sin and its ravages. He gives always beautiful 
views of the mercy-seat ; and opens up oftentimes 
vistas which look into the interior of heaven. In a 
word, the poem is a magnificent and gorgeous pan- 
orama of three worlds. 

'' The Course of Time" is the great Calvinistic 
poem of the Church of Christ. It was time that a 
Christian canticle should have been written. The 
Reformation of the sixteenth century had settled 
the offices of Christ on a permanent basis, and 



THE CALVINISTIC POEM. 295 

reconstructed the creed of the primitive Church. 
The truths of the Gospel had become axioms ; nay, 
were clothed in household words, and uttered 
through the boundaries of the Protestant Church ; 
but it required the magic of song to give them the 
rich tints* which please the intellect, and the as- 
sociations which excite tumult among the feelings. 
Heathenism had produced the Iliad, Odyssey, and 
iEneid ; the first, the oldest epic poem in the world. 
Popery, the Divina Comedia and the Gerusalemme 
Liberata. Protestantism, the Paradise Lost, rich 
not only with the jewelry of ancient lore, but massy 
•with the precious stones of Christianity. The 
Greek and Roman poems are systems of paganism. 
The Paradise of Dante is the scholastic theology of 
the dark acres. Milton's oreat work is a dissertation 
on the terrible expulsion from Eden, with its causes 
and consequences. While Pollok's " Course of 
Time" is a poem about redemption, and is so con- 
structed as to give a befitting history of time to an 
angel. A heathen could learn the way of salvation 
by reading it. There is unction in it to a broken 
heart, and a barbed arrow to the man of pleasure 
and sense. It is a troublesome book to the con- 
science of an ungodly man, and unreadable alto- 
gether by an evil spirit. It stands alone among the 
poems of time. 

Wordsworth has done much for meditative po- 
etry. He has followed thought into the grottos and 
woods ; pursued after it over the hills, and amid the 
lakes and waterfalls ; nor has he hesitated to open 



296 t.IFE OF POLLOK. 

up the secret chambers of the soul, and disturb the 
ideas till they took wing like birds. He is a mon- 
arch in these realms of song. His Excursion is a 
biography of his own feelings, views, and reflec- 
tions. It is only a fragment however, nor can it 
be finished on earth ; time is but the fir^ stage of 
the endless journey of the soul. Great, however, Ss 
he i-s in inspiration, he has written nothing which 
will so bless the world as " The Course of Time." 

Southey has added a century or two to the de- 
crepitude of paganism. His Curse of Kehama 
and Thalaba are Arabic and Hindoo superstitions 
immortalized ; neither the one nor the other sub- 
serve the interest of Christ. His Rlioderick and 
Madoc are of no use to history, nor philosophy, nor 
religion. He has played well upon his harp, but 
the themes which he chose are perishable. It was 
so with Coleridge, Byron, Campbell, and Scott ; 
they were all mighty in minstrelsy, but their songs 
pertained to earth, and like ever thing else which is 
earthly, they must become oblivious. Pollok has 
blown the trumpet of the angel who preached at 
Bochim. He has touched the old harp of God, and 
produced a song which will be read by the multi- 
tude, when these others are perused only by the 
curious and the lovers of ancient lays. 

It may be laid down as a practical axiom, that 
immortality can only be predicated of religious 
poems. The fact is capable of the clearest dem- 
onstration. If there was a map of the world sus- 
pended before us, our eyes would unconsciously 



SCOPE OF RELIGIOUS POEMS. 297 

turn to Greece at a mere allusion to the Iliad and 
Odissey ; to Rome, at the Mneid ; to Scotland, at 
the Lady of the Lake and Marmion. These poems 
are all national and territorial. The episodes may 
take a wider range, but viewed as a whole, they are 
local. 

As a contrast, take the poems of Dante, Milton, 
and Pollok. The map of the world is too small 
for the descriptions in them, and the new fields of 
thought which are explored ; indeed, it becomes a 
mere centre to some mightier circle. To carry 
out the image we must hang up on each side of this 
map of the world, maps of heaven and hell ; and 
around all the outlines of some prodigious universe, 
where there are continents into which the Creator's 
voice has never penetrated. The inhabitants of 
these worlds are pourtrayed in these poems, and 
scenery introduced to which there is not any thing 
like on earth. The ratio of the interest which the 
human mind experiences in reading a religious 
poem, over one which is only earthly and provincial, 
all things else being equal, will be as the limited 
territory is to the three vast worlds alluded to. 
Refined taste prefers the religious to the profane ; in- 
deed intellect, to be permanently gratified, if it seeks 
sober, meditative pleasure in poetry at all, must 
have a religious poem. This fact alone accounts 
for the immediate, continued, and wide-extended 
popularity of " The Course of Time." 

This principle explains the reason why some of 
the most beautiful poems in the English language, 



298 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and which are rich with poetic embroidery, have 
had, and will continue to possess a very limited 
popularity. Those particularly that are founded on 
Heathen Pantheology. Of this kind are Endymion, 
by Keats ; Thalaba and the Curse of Kehama, by 
Southey. Others might easily be adduced. Few 
Christian minds can appreciate the vagaries of Pan- 
theism, or Atheism, or Theism, no matter how gor- 
geously the fable and the plot may be adorned with 
poetic jewelry. Who would care to read Manfred, 
or Alastor, or Remorse, more than once ? Indeed 
to write upon such subjects, is a proof that the au- 
thors overlook the wants of enlightened intellect. 

It would be an easy matter to show, that the 
whole religious system of Heathenism is adapted 
to mind in its most deteriorated and morally de- 
praved state. The human mind which has been 
illuminated with the light of the Gospel, can never 
be permanently pleased with Theism or Pantheism. 
That mind must be diseased which would prefer the 
Arabian Nights Entertainment, or Lallah Rooke, 
or Endymion, or Thalaba, to the Paradise Lost of 
Milton, the Messiah of Klopstock, or the " Course 
of Time" of Pollok. 

The most beautiful poems in the English lan- 
guage, which are embodiments of a false religion, 
will be looked on, in future ages, as antique and use- 
less monuments of the past ; just as the traveller 
now contemplates the effigies and insignia of the 
ancient pagan gods. The probability too is great, 
that the very rubbish which Milton unfortunately 



FRAMEWORK OF THE POEM. 299 

mingled with the gold and silver of his mighty song, 
will do much to retard its popularity in every suc- 
ceeding Christian generation. " The Course of 
Time" is eminently pure in this particular. It would 
not pollute the harp of an angel, and will always be 
appreciated and read by holy men. 

"The Course of Time" is a purely religious poem. 
It is unlike every other in the language in this par- 
ticular. The poet sought not, like Virgil, to im- 
mortalize princes, nor like Sir Walter Scott, to 
rescue from oblivion national legends of love and 
prowess, nor like Wordsworth, to weave a lay to 
philosophy ; but rather to garner up in a song the 
Bible history of redemption. It would have been 
well if he had built the poem after a different fash- 
ion. The frame-work of it is perhaps not the best 
which he might have conceived. It is probably 
destitute of many of those great buttresses and 
towers which are essential to magnificent edifices. 
He might legitimately have erected many a pyra- 
mid on it, and thus given to it a vastness, solidity, 
and strength, of which in its present form it is des- 
titute. He might have introduced with advantage 
entire books on the Patriarchs, the Hebrew people, 
and the Christian Church ; and given greater prom- 
inence to the eternity, advent, death, resurrection, 
ascension, and intercession of Jesus Christ. In a 
word, it may be said that there is a gen-eral appear- 
ance of disproportion about the poem ; a want of 
uniqueness and a disregard to divisional beauty and 
symmetry. The first book is taken up with an in- 



300 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

troduction to the affairs which transpired during the 
course of time ; the three next, and the larger part 
of the fifth, with the history of man in his Ufetime ; 
including the story of Redemption and the contest 
between good and evil. The closing part of the 
fifth describes the Millennium. Now this wonder- 
ful epoch of a thousand years, should never have 
been thrust in at the end of a book. The univer- 
sal reign of Messiah, over the apostate province of 
earth for ten centuries, including some thirty gene- 
rations, might have had a larger niche allowed it. 
The sixth is better in this respect, it is all occupied 
with a history of the last epoch of time — that suc- 
ceeding the Millennium. The seventh and eighth 
are again disproportionate to the other — the seg- 
ments of the theme of the poem. They describe 
the Resurrection and the appearance of the newly- 
risen assembly. The ninth comes under the same 
category of criticism. It is the history of the sepa- 
ration of the righteous and the wicked by the angels 
of God, just before the last assize opens. The tenth 
book sets forth with wonderful detail and power the 
adjuncts of the Judgment. 

On looking at the poem, we are reminded of a 
great temple, which is not built after any of the 
architectural orders, and which withal is beautiful, 
massive, and pleasing. The sculpture, paintings, 
and ornaments are so numerous and magnificent, as 
to divert the eye from scrutinizing the design and 
symmetry of the whole. The poet seems not to 
have been guided by any earthly, epic measurement 



NAME OF THE POEM. 301 

in the construction of it ; but rather by his emotions 
and pictorial views of man's wickedness. He gave 
vastness only to those parts which seemed essential 
to the development of his story. He sought to give 
a vivid exhibition of man rejecting Christ, refusing 
to be redeemed, and this he has eminently succeed- 
ed in doing. Every thing which was incidental he 
put in the background to subserve as shadow. In- 
stead of setting the poem before the' eye on an ele- 
vated position, and surveying its towers, porticos, 
columns and carved work, let us rather consider the 
effect which it has on our heart and intellect. This 
I conceive to be the true vantage-ground from 
which to study it. 

Perhaps the poem might have received a better 
name. The subject of it is the course and end of 
time, or the history of man. Now either of these 
designations would have characterized more fully 
the entire contents : but it seems like walking on 
hallowed ground ; nay, like trampling on the very 
inclosures, to question the propriety of an appella- 
tion, which is consecrated in the memories of thou- 
sands of holy people ; besides it is the name of that 
which the poet saw in the hour of his inspiration. 
Let us ascend, in imagination, to the pinnacle of 
some great celestial elevation, and with the tele- 
scope of eternity in our hands, look out among the 
stars for our own little world ; and when we Jiave 
fixed the focus of the instrument on the earth, will 
there not be the same panorama of things presented 
to us which the poet saw ? — Indeed, no man can 
36 



302 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

comprehend the poem, with its imagery of three 
worlds, its treasures of BibUcal ideas, its inspired 
episodes, its theolos^y, philosophy, science, history, 
and pictures of man, who views it from any other 
platform. It is a true poem ; perhaps the only true 
one on earth, out of the Bible. It requires a man 
who is enlightened by the Holy Ghost to compre- 
hend, appreciate, and love " The Course of time." 

" So did the Seer, 
So did his audience, after worship passed, 
And praise in heaven, rdtirn to sing, to hear 
Of man, not worthy less the sacred lyre, 
Or the attentive ear." 



CHAPTER V. 

" Nor unremembered is the hour when friends 
Met ; friends but few on earth, and therefore dear. 
My early friends, friends of my evil day ; 
Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too : 
Friends given by God in inercy and in love." 

Mr. Pollok preached only ^our times. The 
first sermon was in the pulpit of the Rev. Dr. John 
Brown, Rose street, Edinbm'gh, on the day after his 
licensure. He had no manuscript before him. The 
reading of sermons was not tolerated in that branch 
of the church in Scotland. It was written, and 
committed to memory ; and was truly a discourse 
of great beauty and unction, on 1 Kings, xviii. 21. 
He delivered it in a solemn, dignified, and impas- 
sioned manner. At the beginning of the second 
particular he paused, hesitated, proceeded ; paused 
again, hesitated, and stopped. He never appeared 
to lose his self-possession, but, recalling the sen- 
tence, commenced with as much deliberation as 
if no cessation had occurred. The congregation 
trembled for his success ; some were even in agony 
lest his embarrassment would utterly confuse him. 
The Rev. Dr. Belfrage of Slateford, who was an 
auditor, remarked on leaving the church,—'' Was 
there ever such self-possession exhibited !'* 



304 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

He preached the next three sermons in the pulpit 
of Dr. Belfrage Two of these were on Matthew, 
V. 8., and Psalm Ixxii. 17. The third was the same 
one which he had previously delivered. From 
these few specimens of his style of sermonizing and 
\ manner of delivery, the highest expectations were 
'formed of his usefulness and talents. His pulpit 
oratory was chaste, glowing, and unctuous. We 
have heard it affirmed by persons highly competent 
to judge, that he was superior to all his student con- 
temporaries in these preliminary efforts ; and that 
if he had lived, his fame as an eloquent and power- 
ful preacher, w^ould have been equal to his poetical. 
It was to preach the Gospel, that he had devoted 
himself to literary pursuits. His ideas of author- 
ship were suggested by his circumstances. Nor 
did he ever conceive the thought of desecrating 
his pen, although he might have thus readily raised 
himself out of pecuniary embarrassments. God 
permitted him to reach, and stand for an instant on 
the sublime height, — a thing for which he had so 
much prayed and laboured. Nor can Ave contem- 
plate him in this position of earthly glory and dig- 
nity, without recalling to mind his own beautiful 
description of a godly minister at the resurrection. 

" And first among the holy shone, as best 
Became, the faithful minister of God. 

'•See where he walks on yonder mount that lifts 
Its summit high, on the right hand of bliss, 
Sublime in glory, talking with his peers 



LETTER. 303 

Of the incarnate Saviour's love, and past 
Affliction lost in present joy." 

The following letter, which he wrote to his father 
the week after his licensure, is full of the history of 
his preaching and poem. 

Slateford, May 8, 1824. 

" Dear Father, — On Wednesday David and I, along with seve- 
ral others, were licensed to preach the Gospel. It was not without 
much hesitation that I passed from among the laity into the sacred 
order; but I am now perfectly satisfied with the step I have taken. 
Next day after being licensed, which was the fast-day in Edin- 
burgh, I preached in the forenoon in the Rev. John Brown's church, 
Rose Street ; the house is large, and was very full ; I, however, got, 
upon the whole, decently through with the service. Dr. Belfi-age of 
Slateford, where I now write, was present, as he was to preach in 
the afternoon ; and I was fortunate enough to engage his friend- 
ship, so much, that I was compelled to promise to spend a week or 
two with him. I preached here on Sabbath both parts of the day. 
I the more willingly accepted this invitation, both because it was so 
disinterested and kind, and because my health required some re- 
pose. With the wordy anxieties and fatigues of the winter, I am 
considerably exhausted, but I have here every thing that can con- 
duce to re-invigoration — a most delightful house, surrounded with 
the most exquisite scenery; Dr. Belfrage is the kindest man in the 
world, and a most enlightened spirit; his son, a fine clever young 
fellow ; and a horse to ride on as much as I please every day. I 
shall, therefore, remain here a week or two ; perhaps it may be 
nearly the end of May before I be home. David was to preach 
last Sabbath for the Rev. Thomas Brown, Dalkeith. I have not 
yet heard how he got through, but I have no doubt all would be 
well. 

• " My poem is attracting much attention in Edinburgh, and round 
about, and is selHng upon the whole, well ; it has been noticed and 
quoted by severa.1 papers, both in London and Edinburgh, and their 
remarks have been very laudatory. Do not read this to any-body : 
I wish to let you know what is said about it, but I do not wish you 
2G* 



306 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

to say to any person that I have said so. Mr. Brown of Rose 
Street, of whom you have often heard me speak very highly, has 
been very active in bringing it into notice. He pronounced his 
opinion of it fearlessly, as soon as he read it, and frequently rec- 
ommended it to all his friends ; I, however, still expect much se- 
verity from several of the critics ; but I am as much at ease as if 
there were not a critic in the world. 

" Remember me to John and his family, Margaret, Janet Young, 
Mrs. Gilmour, my uncle's family, and so on. If any thing should 
detain me longer in this quarter than I expect, you will be in- 
formed. 

" I am, &c., 

" R. POLLOK." 

In less than three weeks he writes again to his 
venerable parent, assigning reasons for not being 
able to visit Moorhouse at the time appointed. It 
appears that already the arrow of death had found 
him out. Indeed, he may be said to have corrected 
the proof sheets of the poem, as it was passing 
through the press, by the side of the grave, and by 
means of the mysterious light of eternity. 

" S'atrford, May 27, 1827. 

" Dear Father, — That you do not see me instead of this letter, 
ascribe solely to the necessity of circumstances. I am still at Slate- 
ford ; my health is improving ; but Dr. Belfrage insists that two or 
three weeks more of medical treatment are necessary, and he re- 
fuses to let me leave hiin. I am, therefore, a prisoner, but it is in .a 
paradise ; for every thing here looks as if our world had never 
fallen. 

" My poem continues to draw attention : several reviews of it 
have appeared. One London paper has very graciously placed me 
in the good company of Dante and Milton. Some are a little se- 
vere, but none have ventured to condemn. I enjoy the remarks 
very much, and am blessed with the uhno.st repose of mind. Pri- 
vate opinion of the poem, in this quarter, is very high ; and its sale 



PRESBYTERIAL APPOINTMENTS. 307 

is going on well. Blackwood's face is shining considerably — the 
best sign of a bookseller. Solely on the work's account, I have 
been invited by some individuals of high standing in society, and. 
am, upon the whole, prosperous in all my affairs. 

" I know nothing of David, except that he preached lately in 
Dr. Jamieson's, Edinburgh. I suppose he will be in the west soon. 

" I request of you, as a particular favour, that you will write to 
me the same day you receive this, and let me hear if you are all 
well. Remember me to all my friends. Was John well forward 
with his labour this spring 1 Tell Margaret and IMrs. Gilmour that 
I weary much to see them. John and Janet Young do not forget 
me, I hope. You may salute little Robert and David in my name. 

" Now be sure you write directly — do not put off a day. I am 
extremely anxious to hear from you. Address to me at the Rev. 
Dr. Belfrage's, Slateford, near Edinburgh. 

I am yours, &c. 

" R. POLLOK." 

It is usual, in Scotland, for the several ecclesiasti- 
cal bodies to give preaching appointments to their 
licentiates ; accordingly, in June, the United Asso- 
ciate Synod assigned hinn as a supply for five months 
within the bounds of the Presbytery of Edinburgh 
and Glasgow; but the stateof his heallh interfered, 
and he was never able to fulfil one of them. 

During the month of June he had a severe attack 
of illness, which detained him at Slateford for a 
longer time than he had designed when going there. 
The kindness which he experienced from Dr. Bel- 
frage and his son Henry, at that time a student of 
medicine, was limitless. As soon as his strength 
rallied a little, he wrote to his father the following 
copious letter : — 

" Slateford, July 4. 1827. 
" Dear Father, — The report, which has reached you concern- 
ing my health, is far from being true in its utmost extent. That I 



308 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

have been ill is certain ; but that my Hfe has been in imminent dan- 
ger, is a thing that never occurred either to myself or my medical 
friends. I am blamable in not writing to you, more particularly, 
sooner. But I have this excuse, that for some weeks past I have 
been unable to write; and, although it is more than a week since 
I began to recover, I wished to wait till I might be able to give you 
a very satisfactory account. 

" It is impossible, in a single letter, to give you a detail either of 
the circumstances from which my sickness arose, or of the manner 
in which I have been afflicted, or of the means which have been 
used for my recovery. I may shortly say, that the medical friends 
in the west country, on whom I had been accustomed to rely some- 
what, had totally misunderstood my complaints. The consequence 
was, that nothing was ever done that had any tendency to remove 
them. I was as unfortunate with the surgeon whom I consulted 
in Dunfermline, a week or two before the new-year ; for, about 
that time, I felt my health begin to yield a little. Of the cause why 
I did not consult more skilful men, you need not be told. I was 
then obscure and unknown, and had no influence to bring me into 
such presence. Accordingly, as my labour increased in the spring 
months, so did my complaints ; first, almost total indigestion ; then, 
loss of appetite ; and then, or rather simultaneous with these, a 
quick, high, and feverish pulse : so that, when I took license in the 
beginning of May, I was utterly worn out, in a state of high fever, 
and just ready to fall into the hands of the physicians. 

" You will be ready to ask why I did not sooner yield to the dis- 
ease, and give up all labour. This was quite impossible. From 
home, and during spring, without money, and without friends that 
could in the slightest degree assist me, the only hope of securing 
that medical assistance, and other comforts which I felt I needed ; 
and at the same time, of deUvering my mind from the infinite 
anxiety which should have oppressed it, if I had gone to a sick 
bed with the works and studies of many years lying about me, 
blasted in their very birth — my only hope, I say, of doing this, 
remained in finishing my publication and taking license. Ac- 
cordingly, in one day, my mind felt itself in perfect repose ; and 
in the course of a few weeks, my reputation gave me far more 
power over all that I need of than any quantity of money could 
have done. 

" I have been constantly attended by Dr. Abercrombie, the first 



LETTER. 309 

physician in Edinburgh. I have also been attended by Drs. Scott 
and Mackintosh, and other medical men of the first eminence from 
Edinburgh ; and especially I have been, night and day, watched 
by Dr. Belfrage and his son ; have received all my medicine from 
their own hands, and every symptom has been remarked as soon as 
felt. From all quarters inquiries have come. Cordials and com- 
pliments have been sent me in boundless numbers ; and, especially, 
one gentleman's family in the immediate neighbourhood, seems to 
have searched for, and invented, night and day, whatever might be 
favourable to my health, or might soothe me while I suffered. 

'' I leave you to make your own reflections on God's infinite 
mercy to me in this case. I have been afllicted, I hope, much for 
my good, and the good of my friends ; but I have not been a mo- 
ment without the smile of his blessed countenance : he has, indeed, 
' staid his rough wind in the day of the east wind,' and ' in wrath 
he has remembered me in the multitude of his mercies.' 

" Till within eight days, notwithstanding all that had been done 
in my favour, the appetite was still nothing, the internal pains were 
little diminished, the pulse was obstinately feverish, and I went 
daily down in appearance and strength. But the cooling food, and 
the cooling medicine, have ultimately prevailed ; the powers of na- 
ture are reviving, my appetite has returned, and I am able to ride 
out two hours a-day. The writing of this long letter, which I 
have done, or shall do all at once, is an obvious proof that I am 
not sick. 

" I have not time to tell you of the numerous attentions which I 
have received from literary men. What has gratified me most is, 
the very striking attention which I have lately received from the 
venerable Mr. Mackenzie, aged eighty-four, author of ' The Man 
of Feeling.' I felt his attention to be as if some Hterary patriarch 
had risen from the grave, to bless me and do me honour. 

" I have received twenty pounds from Blackwood, which has re- 
lieved my mind from present anxiety. Write to me in a day or 
two, and I will answer your letter immediately : tell me the news." 

" R. POLLOK." 

During his convalescence, it was suggested by 
the Rev. Dr. Belfrage, and concurred in by several 
physicians, that it would be well for him to spend 



310 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the coming winter in Italy ; and as an experiment 
of his abiHty to endure the fatigues of a voyage to 
the southern part of the continent, that he should 
take a trip northward to Aberdeen. A few days 
before taking this northern tour he communicated 
his joys and sorrows to his venerable parent. 

Slafeford, July 16, 1837. 

" Dear Fathkr, — I thank God, that I am able to inform you 
that my health advances steadily, and with much more rapidity 
than I could possibly have expected. It is only about three weeks 
since I began to discern that my constitution, under the blessing 
of a kind and infinitely merciful Providence, had begun to master 
the disease. My appetite is now excellent. I eat more in one day 
than I did in a week when I came to Slateford. I have been in 
Edinburgh almost every day for the last week, — on horseback I 
mean ; for walking in this weather would, on my part, be absolute 
insanity. 

" On Wednesday first, I intend to sail for Aberdeen, where 1 
shall Hkely remain for a few days. Afterwards, I intend to coast 
round to Dundee, sail up the Tay to Perth, where I shall Hkely re- 
main for some time ; from thence I intend to come straight to Edin- 
burgh, stay a few days with Dr. Belfrage, take the Lanark coach, 
see the falls of Clyde, come to Glasgow, and thence to Moorhouse, 
whose very name sounds sacredly in my ear. This is what I 
intend, under the Providence which directeth all. I should have 
willingly enough come west just now, and taken sailing by the west- 
ern Highlands, but I am not known in these quarters • whereas, 
over all the district which I have mentioned I have numerous in- 
vitations from gentlemen of most substantial standing, so that I 
shall be at little expense, except for boats and coaches. You see 
the exceeding great advantage of this. If I continue well you need 
expect no letter till I am nearly home ; but depend upon it, you 
shall have the most accurate account of my health if there be any 
need. Be alarmed by nothing, unless it come sanctioned by my 
own authority. I hope you will let my friends in the west know 
of my recovery ; tell them that I have sailed out into the German 
ocean. 



LETTER. 311 

" I have been for many weeks five shillings a-week at an average 
for postages, but I shall now be delivered. 

"With this you will receive a London 'Review,' containing a 
critique on my poem. The gentleman who wrote it, whomsoever 
he may be, is deficient in one or two of the great powers of mind; 
but, upon the whole, the review is a good one, — I mean as reviews 
go now-a-days. since the death of Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was 
the only reviewer that ever appeared in this country with power 
equal to the great authors whom he reviewed ; and who, on that 
very account, was the only man that could do his subject justice. 
The critic accuses me, several times, of borrowing. This is abso- 
lute nonsense. I am conscious that I did not borrow a thought 
from any poet, dead or alive, m the whole of ' The Course of Time.' 
Likenesses, here and there, occur among all poets ; and when it so 
happens, the critic always charges the author with imitation. This 
is one of the evils of authorship, which we know before we publish ; 
and we submit to it with cheerfulness. Soon after Milton pub- 
lished his immortal work, a critic wrote a long book, in which he 
undertook to prove that every fine passage in Milton was borrowed. 

" Since I wrote to you last, I had a personal visit from Mr. Henry 
Mackenzie, of whom I spoke in my last letter. He is an exceed- 
ingly cheerful old man. 

" I hope we shall all make a wise improvement of the dispensa- 
tion of Providence to me at this time. I trust it will always put us in 
mind of our frailty, of our utter dependence ; so that we may walk 
humbly before God with fear and trembling all the days of our lives. 
At the same time always remembering the infinite mercies by which 
my soul and body have been sustained, let us, at morning, and eve- 
ning, and mid-day, bless and magnify His name who is our hope 
and salvation. If we are in adversity, let us ever be able to say, 
' It is good for us that we are afflicted ;' if we are in prosperity, may 
it be the constant music of our souls, ' Not unto us, O Lord, not 
unto us, but unto thy name give glory.' 

" I hope you will not lend the Review out of the family : it would 
look like vanity. I expect that none of you will lend the copies of 
my poem which I sent you : let those who are curious either buy or 
want. 

"Yours, &c., "R. PoLLOK." 

The city of Aberdeen is one hundred and thirty 



312 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

miles north of Edinburgh. It is the Roman Devana, 
and was known to that people as early as eighty- 
four of the Christian era. It is beautifully situated, 
lying on the north bank of the river Dee, and near 
its influx into the river Don. The public buildings 
are imposing, and constructed of a beautiful polished 
granite. Lord Byron resided in it with his mother, 
till about his tenth year. The author of " The Min- 
strel" lived and died there. Gregory, the inventor 
of the reflecting telescope, and Jamieson, the cele- 
brated porti'ait painter of the seventeenth century, 
were born there. Many distinguished men were 
educated in the Colleges of Aberdeen. Among them 
were Bishop Burnett ; Dr. Arbuthnot, the friend of 
Swift and Pope ; Dr. Campbell, the author of the 
*' Philosophy of Rhetoric," and other works of great 
value ; Dr. Gerard, author of '• Institutes of Biblical 
Criticism ;" and Dr. Reid, the celebrated author of 
the " Inquiry into the Human Mind." 

The historic reminiscences of the place no doubt 
helped to induce Mr. PoUok to visit it ; yet, in con- 
sideration of its latitude, it was not the place for 
him, in the peculiar state of his lungs. The follow- 
ing letter, w4iich he wrote two or three days after 
his arrival, to Dr. Belfrage, shows conclusively that 
he was not gratified with his experimental tour 



" Aberdeen, Saturday Evening. 
" My Dear Friend, — I arrived safely at the New Inn, Aber- 
deen, about half-past six o'clock on Wednesday evening. On look- 
ing at Aberdeen I saw that it was a town of some miles in circum- 



LETTER. 313 

ference. Where to find Mr. Angus was hard to say. I was too 
needful of refreshment to hesitate. In five minutes I had tea before 
me— retired immediately after it to my bed-room, and after an hour 
and a half's repose, found myself, in every respect, fresher tlian 
when I left the Rev. Mr. Brown's in the morning. By this time 
the evening had become damp. In the meantime I inclosed your 
letter in a note of my own for Mr. Angus, stating that I should cer- 
tainly have delivered your letter personally, but that the want of 
his address, as well as the fatigue of the long sail, had compelled 
me to take the first inn. Soon after, I received a most polite card, 
informing me that Mr. Angus would wait on me next morning at 
half-past eight o'clock, when I should be able to accompany him to 
breakfast. 

" I had not conversed an hour with Mr. Angus when I could 
easily see that he possessed almost every qualify that one could 
wish in a friend. He soon procured me exquisite lodgings, cove- 
nanting with me, at the same time, that I should dine°and drink 
tea with him every day. 

" Such is the state of affairs. But what, after all, is Aberdeen 
for an invalid ] It has no shore within five or six miles ; and how 
is an invalid to get so far 1 I am exquisitely lodged, it is true, but 
in the heart of a smoky town. The banks of the Dee and the Don 
are the only rides that can possibly be endured. But before I can 
reach either, I must drive through a mile and a half of town. I 
have determined, if it be the will of Providence, to leave this lean, 
barren country on Wednesday first, at six o'clock in the morning! 
I have several invitations from gentlemen in Perthshire ; two of 
which I received on the quay at Newhaven, just as I was going 
into the boat. But if I do take this route, I should necessarSy be 
led into much company— more, I am afraid, than I should yet be 
able to stand. I am, therefore, just hesitating whether to take my 
passage straight to Edinburgh, and to go thence to some of the 
western coasts, where I have lived before, and where I could stiil 
live comfortably, and spend less money in a week than I do in a 
day here. I am, however, very fond to accept of my invitations in 
Perthshire. I should hke to have your advice. If, on receiving 
this, you think a letter can reach me before Tuesday evening, I beg 
of you to write immediately ; and do not wait on reasoning;^ be ab- 
solute in your commands, and they shall be obeyed. 

" My mind has not been an hour from Slatelbrd since I left—the 
27 



314 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

garden, the banks of the river, and so on. Remember me kindly 
to your family, to Mrs. Monro and her daughters. — My dear friend, 
yours, with the greatest affection and esteem, 

" R. PoLLOK " 

There are lines in the following piece, which 
properly classify it with the productions of his mind 
about that period. It is half desponding, half an- 
ticipatory. It abounds with beautiful thoughts ar- 
rayed in choice and musical language. 

TO DARKNESS. 

Still margined with gold are the clouds of the west, 
The last steps of day on the mountains are seen : 

Haste, haste ye away to the isles of the blest! 
Let Darkness unmingled envelope this scene. 

In me, lone and friendless, the fair eye of light 
But points out a laugh to a world of proud scorn ; 

Kind, kind to the wretched the shadows of night, 
But bitter and taunting the looks of the morn. 

Come, daughter of night, gloomy Darkness come forth! 

Why tarry so long in the place of thy sleep 1 
Dost thou dwell in the cold icy halls of the north 1 

Or slumber the day in the caves of the deep 1 

From thy dwelling arise ; thy wings thickly plume, 
And spread them abroad o'er the earth and the sky, 

Add thy star-veiling mantle of clouds to the gloom, 
And hide me from pity and pride's hated eye. 

Deep muffle the moon in the garment of night; 

Roll back from the welkin the stars' twinkling sheen ; 
By fits from thy clouds send the red meteor's light, 

And let thy dread visage be awfully seen. 

Sweet, sweet is thy brow to the soul wed to grief! 

The broad idle gaze of the world, all in vain. 
Looks for mirth in my face : I ask not relief: 

Biust, my heart, when thou wilt, but never complain. 



LETTER. 315 

As watches the wanderer for way-pointing fires, 
As the maid for her love by the moon's dewy light. 

As the sailor looks out for the land of his sires, 
So wait I the slow-coming footsteps of night. 

The notes of thy minstrel, the grave-watching owl, 
The wail of the wind through the sad piny grove, 

The voice of the torrent, the wave's distant growl, 
When shrouded in gloom, is the music I love. 

Oh ! when wilt thou take me, dark night, to thy place 1 
Where the sleep-frighting footsteps of day never tread; 

Where no cold eye of pride scowls on misery's face ; 
Where death makes the weary and friendless a bed. 

After spending a week in Aberdeen, we find his 
views and feelings changed. Perhaps this was at- 
tributable to some alteration in his physical condition. 
So it is, the mind of man is like the sky, sometimes 
luminous and serene, at others overcast and dark 
with clouds. He probably wrote this second letter 
to Dr. Belfrage before he had received that gentle- 
man's response to the first. 

" August 2, 1827. 
" Rev, and Dear Sir, — I feel I have, in some measure, injured 
you, in being so long of telHng you where and how I am: I am still 
in Aberdeen. I find the air here so conducive to the restoration of 
my health, that I am reluctant to leave the place. The fever has 
entirely left me. One morning, after breakfast, about eight days 
ago, I took a walk down to the quay. The tide was ebb, there 
was a strong wind, and the sea air was remarkably strong. Before 
I got home I was seized with violent vomiting ; and continued, the 
whole day, to cough and throw, very much like a child in the last 
stage of the chin-cough. Indeed, the whole first week I resembled 
a child in the chin-cough; and. J believe, rather lost th.in gain<>d 
strength. I continued the farinaceous diet tiil the stomach refused 
to be any longer contented with it. I now take a beef-steak be- 
tween twelve and one, and find myself perfectly ready for dinner at 



Z16 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

half-past three, or four o'clock. At breakfast, tea, and supper, all 
of which I eat with excellent appetite, I take no animal food. 

" I have been thirty miles up the Dee ; and on Monday, Mr. 
William Swan, of Dunfermline, who is here on business, intends to 
proceed forty miles up that river — as far as Balater, He has 
pressed me to go with him. We shall likely spend four or five days 
in that quarter. The air on the Dee is delightfully mild — quite dif- 
ferent from the piercing winds of Aberdeen ; so mild is it, that al- 
most all the wives and families of the gentlemen in Aberdeen are 
scattered, during summer, in the numberless cottages up and down 
its banks. 

" After arriving here, I soon found my wardrobe miserably defi- 
cient. The few articles which I brought with me, were sometimes 
almost all in requisition in a single day, so that 1 have been obliged 
to add very considerably to this article. My money ebbs fast ; but 
I think I have still as much as shall enable me to spend ten days 
or a fortnight here, and carry me rapidly through Perthshire, where 
I shall make only a few calls, and then return, by Dunfermhne, to 
Slateford. 

" Mr. Angus continues his attentions. I have found an invalua- 
ble companion in Mr. Scott, brother to my landlady ; he is brother 
also to Mrs. Rev. Dr. Baliner, of Berwick. I have never met a young 
gentleman of higher accomplishments. He has accompanied me in 
almost all my rides ; and with him I have seen every thing worth 
seeing in Aberdeen, and for many miles around. He has also been 
the means of saving me a great deal of money, from his intimate 
acquaintance with the place. My invitcitions multiply every day ; 
and I am absolutely astonished at the kindness and attention with 
which I am everywhere treated. I never go out to breakfast ; and 
I have not been one night out of my lodgings after eight o'clock 
since I left Slateford. 

" I have a strong desire to go to Italy during winter. If any 
thing should fall in your way that may forward my wishes in this 
scheme, if you would take notice of it, you would lay me, if possi- 
ble, under a still greater debt of gratitude. 

" I was glad that Mrs. Robertson saw you so late as last Sab- 
bath, and that you and the family are well. Mrs. Robertson's ar- 
rival is a great addition to my happiness. Kindest love to Mrs. and 
Miss Grindlay, to Mr. Belfrage, and to Mrs. Monro and her daugh- 
ters. " R. POLLOK." 



LETTER. 317 

During the time the poet was visiting this north- 
ern metropoHs, his friends in and around Edinburgh 
were engaged maturing measures for sending him 
to the south of Europe. The very day after he had 
dispatched the last letter, he received one from Dr. 
Belfrage requesting him to return immediately, as a 
plan had been arranged for this end. It is delightful 
for the pen of biography to record such acts of be- 
neficence to sanctified and suffering genius. His 
was a better fate than that of Chatterton. But the 
followins: letter to his father, on his arrival in Edin- 
burgh untblds the story. 

" Rev. John Brouvi^s, Rose Street, i 
Edinburgh, Aug. 7, 1827. $ 

<« Dear Father,— If the day is fine you may expect me home on 
Friday or Saturday first. Saturday is most likely. I shall make 
my visit to Moorhouse only, so that, if any of my friends wish to 
see me, they must see me there. I wish you to make no invita- 
tions. If you see any of my west country friends, you may let them 
know merely that, if it be the will of Providence, I shall be with you 
most of next week, at least till Thursday or Friday. 

" I had been frequently meditating for two weeks, while I was in 
Aberdeen, about the means of getting to Italy during winter. I 
wrote to Dr. Belfrage on the subject ; and I was astonished to re- 
ceive a letter next morning, informing me that I must return to 
Edinburgh immediately, as he had, with the co-operation of Sir 
John Sinclair and other gentlemen, completed arrangements for my 
going to Florence or Pisa during winter. This is the cause of my 
offering you so short a visit, and also for confining the whole of that 
short time to Moorhouse. 

" My constitution has been wonderfully renovated by my visit to 
Aberdeen. 

" I think it is not likely that I can reach home before Saturday; 
but, if God so will, Saturday forenoon. 

" R. POLLOK." 

27* 



318 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

The late Sir John Sinclair was the benefactor of 
his country. His fame was not that of the warrior, 
who desolates kingdoms by invasion, and impover- 
ishes his own by a wasteful expenditure of life and 
wealth ; but that of him who makes two blades of 
grass to vegetate where only one had previously 
grown. His name is now associated with the 
agricultural worthies, Columella, Herrera, Tessier, 
Thayer, and Marshall. He was the author of the 
voluminous Statistics of Scotland. His daughter, 
Catharine, has given an American popularity to the 
name. 

Immediately on the publication of " The Course 
of Time," this Scotch nobleman purchased a copy, 
and read it. He formed an exalted opinion of it, 
and placed the author in a very high niche in the 
temple of poets. Nay, took occasion to call the 
attention of the learned and great to it. Nor is it 
possible to estimate how much of the immediate 
popularity of the poem is to be ascribed to his sole 
efforts. As soon as he learned the history of the 
author, he issued a circular to his friends, under his 
own signature, with a view of calling their attention 
to him. The following is the substance of it : — 

" Hints respecting a Poem recently published, written by Robert 
Pollok, A. M., entitled ' The Course of Time.'— With a short Ac- 
count of the Author, and Specimens of his Work. — By the Right 
Honorable Sir John Sinclair, Bart. — 

" By mere chance I heard that a work of great merit had been 
recently published by a young poet, Mr. Robert Pollok, entitled, 
* The Course of Time.' As I think it a duty incumbent upon those 
who are anxious to promote the literature of a country, to encourage 



THE poet's last VISIT TO MOORHOUSE. 319 

talent whenever it appears, I lost no time in purchasing the work, 
and was delighted to find that it displayed great marks of original 
genius. The conception is grand, the execution masterly, and on 
the whole, it seemed to me the most extraordinary production that 
had appeared for some time, more especially as connected with relig- 
ious subjects. I was thence induced to inquire into Mr. Pollok's 
history, of which I learned, from respectable authority, the follow- 
ing particulars:" — 

" His health, however, had been so much impaired by his exces- 
sive exertions in preparing his poem for the press, and carrying on 
its printing, that, after a few trials, he has been under the necessity 
of relinquishing the labors of his profession ; and being threatened 
with complaints, which, in the opinion oi' some eminent physicians, 
render residence in a milder chmate the most probable means of 
restoring his health, it has become indispensably necessary for him 
to repair to the Continent without delay. 

" It is difficult to give a just idea of such a poem by extracts ; hut 
the following passages will sufficiently prove that Mr. Pollok's pow- 
ers, as a poet, are of the highest order." — See, Character of Lord 
Byron, Description of England and Scotland, Evening Hymn in 
Paradise, &c. 

The poet was the worse of his northern journey. 
It is probable that the cold winds off the German 
ocean excited rather than soothed his chest. His 
friends in Edinburgh saw with sorrow that he with- 
ered, and looked more and more like 

" The sere and yellow leaf." 

On Friday, the 10th of August, he arrived at 
Moorhouse, after an absence of ten months. Two 
of the most momentous incidents in his life occurred 
during the intervening period. The one was the 
publication of " The Course of Time," the other his 
licensure to preach the Gospel of Chi'ist. His 
friends anticipating his arrival had collected at the 



320 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

paternal mansion. About noon he arrived in a pri- 
vate carriage. Nor had the vehicle stopped until 
he was surrounded by a group of anxious faces and 
glad hearts. Sad, sad, were the first emotions of 
this fond circle. He had the look and visage of a 
dying man. He left them in ordinary health, and 
returned covered with honour and fame ; but, alas ! 
he brought with him, too, the symbols of another 
world, — 

" The harp he loved — loved better than his life; 
The harp which uttered deepest notes, and held 
The ear of thought a captive to its song." 

Moorhouse is an oblong, thatched building, one 
story high, consisting of two apartments on the 
ground-floor ; — " the Butt and the Ben," or " the 
Kitchen and Spence." The door is near the one 
end, and enters directly into the kitchen, through 
which you pass to reach the room. The poet, on 
alighting from the carriage, passed the threshold, 
nor stopped till he entered the room. He then sat 
down " on the old chair" beside " the old table," 
where inspired he had written the greater part of 
the poem. That was an eventful epoch as the 
family group stood wondering before the Genius of 
Moorhouse = 



CHAPTER VI. 

" The youth saw everlasting days 
Before him dawning rise, in which to achieve 
All glorious things, and get himself the name 
That jealous death too soon forbade on earth." 

On Wednesday, the 15th of August, 1827, the 
author of ''The Course of Time" left Moorhouse 
for the last time. He could not take with him the 
mantle of fame with which he had arrayed it. The 
hills around it, on which he placed the laurel wreath 
of song, will stand up amid all coming ages, herald- 
ing its name. The Genius of Scotland found him 
there, and put into his hands a harp, whose min- 
strelsy will charm the ear of the Church through all 
future time. It is one of the holiest feelings of our 
nature to cherish, with fond remembrance, the spot 
where a great man was born, or lived, or died. 

The carriage which conveyed him away stopped, 
at his request, at the top of the hill, a short distance 
from the house, and there he said "Farewell" to his 
father. He had parted with the other members of 
the family, except David at the house. The next 
time that father and son met was in the streets of 
the New Jerusalem. At Clarkston, five miles from 
Glasgow, David left the carriage and Mrs. Gilmour 
the married sister, took his place. It had been ar- 



322 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ranged that she was to accompany the invalid in 
his tour to Italy. It was there the brothers parted 
forever in time. 

During the evening which he spent in Glasgow, 
in the Wheat-sheaf Inn, Clyde Terrace, a deputation 
of the students connected with the United Secession 
Hall, then in session, called upon him and presented 
the following letter of congratulation and sympathy. 
He was in bed, and received the deputation in his 
dormitory. The interview is said to have been 
tender and affecting, and not unlike the death-bed 
scenes of Calvin and Knox. There are few inci- 
dents in history like this. This movement of the 
theological students justifies us in saying, that a rep- 
resentation of the present ministry of Scotland did 
offer a befitting tribute to the dying bard, who sung 
" The Course of Time." 

" United Secession Divinity Hall, > 
Glasgow, 4th A^igust, 1827. ) 

" Dear Brother, — It has long been a cause of regret to the pious 
mind that poetical genius should be generally misdirected, and that 
the highest efforts of intellect and imagination should be rendered 
subservient to the propagation of vice. The pernicious consequences 
of such prostitution are certainly extensive and alarming. It is, 
therefore, gratifying that there have been exceptions to this general 
lamentable truth ; — that there have been master-minds which have 
exerted their mighty powers in ' vindicating the ways of God to 
man.' But how enthusiastic does this pleasure become when such 
genius arises in splendor from among ourselves, kindhng its fire at 
the altar of God, and striking its harp to the immortal songs of 
Zion! 

" Our satisfaction is too strong not to be expressed. Convinced 
that, from its depth and accuracy of theological views, its purity of 
moral sentiment, and the brilliancy of its genius, ' The Course of 



TRIBUTE FROM THE THEOLOGICAL CLASS. 323 

Time' is a work of the very highest merit ; and feeling that the dis- 
tinguished honour which it confers on its author is not confined to 
himself, but is reflected on that Theological Seminary in which he 
was lately our fellow-student, and on that Church to which we 
mutually belong ; we cannot refrain from offering you an expres- 
sion at once of our highest admiration and strongest gratitude. 

" But our gratification, dear brother, is mingled with heartfelt 
sorrow that your state of health is such as to require your removal 
to a more genial climate. May He Avho alone sendeth sickness and 
restoreth health, render effective the means which are employed for 
your recovery; may He be your guide and comforter while in a 
foreign land ; and may He soon restore you, in health, to your coun- 
try, to your friends, and to the Church. — We are, dear brother, yours 
very affectionately, in name of the Hall, 

" Geo. Hill, Pres, 
'•David King, Sec'y." 

This document does honor to the mtellect and 
piety of the Theological Class. It is no wonder that 
Scotland is a land of moral influence, when her 
rising ministry entertain, and frankly avow, such 
sentiments. Blessed must that land and church be, 
whose theological institutions are filled with talented 
and pious youth. If there is one place on earth 
where human wisdom, original and powerful intel- 
lect, as well as eminent godliness, should be col- 
lected, it is in the school where " the angels of the 
churches" are equipped for the preaching of the 
everlasting Gospel. 

The poet, after reading the communication, told 
the committee that he was overwhelmed with the 
honor his fellow-students had conferred on him ; and 
that he would acknowledge his sense of it in writing 
in a few days. The Rev. Dr. King of Glasgow, 
the writer of this paper, remarked, in a recent letter 



324 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

to David Pollok, giving an account of the interview, 
that it was evident at the time, that the bard was 
*' going the way of all the earth." The Rev. Mr. 
Browning, now of Newcastle-upon-Tyne^ remained 
with him after the deputation left him, assisting him 
to make sundry preparations for his journey. 

On the following morning he left Glasgow for- 
ever, designing to travel to Edinburgh by the way 
of the canal. He proceeded, however, no further 
than Port Downie, near Falkirk that day. The 
shocks of the boat on the banks of the canal gave 
him great discomfort. Having passed the night at 
this place, he hired a carriage, in which he finished 
the rest of the journey. He reached the hospitable 
mansion of the Rev. Dr. Brown, Edinburgh, in an 
exceedingly exhausted state. 

He remained a week in and about the metropolis. 
During this period his portrait was taken by the 
well-known artist. Daniel Macnee, Esq., at the soli- 
citation of Dr. Brown. It is an engraving of this 
painting which is prefixed to this biography. It is 
said to be a very accurate likeness of him at the 
time ; but the death-disease was busy at his vitals. 
In health, his cheeks were not so hollow, and there 
were stronger lines of intellect discoverable. Indeed, 
he had a remarkable countenance when animated. 
His eyes penetrated the observer, and thought played 
around his lips. 

Among the many literary persons who called upon 
him during his brief stay, was the venerable Henry 
Mackenzie, the author of " The Man of Feeling," 



OPPOSITION TO THE TOUR. 325 

then in his eighty-fourth year. He received, also, 
numerous letters from persons of note. Byron, m 
one of his letters about his own poetical reputation, 
said, " that he rose one morning, and found himself 
famous." The same language may be literally ap- 
plied to Pollok. It was not four months smce the 
publication of "The Course of Time," and yet his 
name was recorded among the great mmstrels ol the 
Encrlish Harp. There is a similarity between the 
last days of Tasso and Pollok. They both died just 
as the coronal of laurel had been twined to put on 
their brows. 

The poet's kindred were averse to his visiting the 
south of Europe. They objected to it from the very 
first. His father had urged his opposition to it with 
great earnestness, during Robert's visit at Moor- 
house ; and Mrs. Gilmour not only continued to dis- 
suade him from it, but took every means to enlist 
the projectors of the plan in her views. She failed, 
however, in her judicious efforts. The increasing 
debility of the invalid seemed only to precipitate the 
measures for carrying him away from his native 
land. His Edinburgh friends thought it best to send 
him to London, and then to be guided about his 
tour bv the advice of physicians. Now there was 
in all this a mistaken sympathy. The poet should 
have been frankly told that he was rapidly hurrying to 

«' That bourne from which no traveller returns." 

They might have known that he who wrote these 
28 



326 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

lines would not be utterly prostrated by the frustra- 
tion of his greatest earthly plans : — 

" O'er the sinner 
The Christian had this one advantage more, 
That when his earthly pleasures failed, and fail 
They always did to every soul of man, 
He sent his hopes on high, looked up and reached 
His sickle forth, and reaped the fields of heaven, 
And plucked the clusters from the vines of God." 

The desire of the dying when in foreign lands, to 
be permitted to die at home, must always be greater 
than the disappointment, which would be occasioned 
by refusing to sanction their leaving that home. 
Who has not wept over that touching account given 
by Mr. Lockhart, concerning Sir Walter Scott, 
when the desire of home came upon him, in the 
midst of all the homage which Naples and Rome 
offered him? The author of " The Course of Time'' 
should have died in his own Moorland home. The 
hills which he immortalized should have been the 
last spectators of his ascending soul. 

On Tuesday morning, the day before sailing for 
London; he wrote the following paper at Slateford, 
and gave it to Dr. Belfrage, with a copy of the poem, 
in safe keeping for his brother David. 

" Slateford, August 21, 1827. 
'* I, Robert Pollok, being advised by my physicians to go abroad 
for some time, for the recovery of my health, hereby appoint you, 
David Pollok, sole conductor of the next edition of my poem, ' The 
Course of Time ;' and you are hereby bound to make no alteration 
in words, except such as I shall mark on a copy of the work, and 
leave in the hands of Dr. Belfrage. 



THE TOEt's care OF THE POEM. 327 

" Copy of the ' Course of Time/ corrected by the author, from 
which nothing is to be added or parted. ,, „ „ 

° *' R. POLLOK. 

" For David Pollok." 

There were certain verbal corrections in the book, 
and on a blank leaf these words : — 

•' Copy of ' The Course of Time,' corrected by the author, from 

which nothincp is to be added or parted. 

" R. Pollok. 

" For David Pollok. ' 

Mr. Pollok acted like a man who anticipated 
dying soon. "He set his house in order." The 
poem was to go down to posterity as he left it. Its 
faults and merits were his. No hand was to touch 
it. There is not any thing in this care which he 
evinced, to lead us to infer that he considered it fin- 
ished and perfect. All that can reasonably be in- 
ferred is, that he felt that no mind was capable of 
adding to it or taking from it, but the one which 
conceived it. He also made his will the same day 
after riding into Edinburgh, appointing the Rev. 
Drs. Belfrage and Brown his executors, and making 
his father the principal legatee. In the evening he 
destroyed almost all the letters which he had re- 
ceived for years from his correspondents. 

On his arrival in the city, that morning, he found 
the following note and memorandum, with a package 
from Sir John Sinclair ; on whom he called during 
the day and presented, in person, his sincere thanks 
for the politeness shown him : 

" Sir John Sinclair thinks it right to send Mr. Robert Pollok 
materials for writing, the want of which is often felt by travellers ; 



328 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

also cards for writing his name, when he settles at Leghorn, or any 
other place. 

" 133, George Street, Edinburgh, 
" 20th August, 1827." 

" Memorandum for Mr, Robert Pollok. 

" 1. Sir John Sinclair has written to his son, George Sinclair, 
Esq., to endeavour to get letters in favor of Mr. Pollok, to the British 
consuls at Leghorn, Genoa, Pisa, and Naples, from John Backhouse, 
Esq., Under Secretary of State at the Foreign Department. It would 
be most material to get them. 

" 2. But the great object is, to get the assistance of the Literary 
Fund for the expenses of the journey ; and for that purpose, it is of 
the utmost importance that Mr. Pirie should see, in person. Mr, 
George Sinclair and Sir Benjamin Hobhouse, with as little delay as 
possible. 

=' 3. Mr. Pollock should take a copy or two of his work with him 
— one for corrections. 

" 4. Remember the ' muffler' in cold and damp weather, particu- 
larly at sea. 

"J, S. 

" 133, George Street, Edinburgh, 
"20th August, 1827." 

The last day which the poet spent in Edinburgh 
was one of thrilhng interest. His tour to Italy w^as 
the topic of conversation among the literary circles. 
His movements w^ere watched by multitudes. The 
curious were anxious to see the face of the great 
Christian bard. Letters of introduction were for- 
warded to him. The intelligent and distinguished 
in rank and station sought to make his contemplated 
pilgrimage pleasant. Nor would he have failed, 
from these sources alone, to have found a hospitable 
hearth in every city in southern Europe, if Provi- 
dence had permitted him to visit those regions. 



LETTER. 329 

The following letter, furnished him by Mr. Black- 
wood, the publisher of the poem, is worthy of a 
place here. It is a beautiful tribute to the author : 

"TO MRS. BELL, 

" Aux SoiNS DE Messrs. Lewis, Holff et Co., 
" Florence, Italie. 
" Honoured by the Rev. R. Pollok. 

" Edinburgh, ^Qth August, 1827. 

" Dear Madam, — I hope you have, ere now, received my letter of 
the 6th of July. 

" The reason of my now addressing you is, that a very dear friend 
of mine, the Rev. Robert Pollok, is on the point of setting off for 
Italy, for the recovery of his health ; and, as he will probably take 
up his residence somewhere in your neighborhood, I feel very anx- 
ious he should have the pleasure of knowing you, as I am sure you 
will feel an interest in him, both for his own sake, and as a sick 
countryman, to whom any little attention in a foreign land will be 
so grateful. 

" Mr. Pollok is the author of a very remarkable poem, ' The Course 
of Time.' which, I regret now, I did not send you with the other 
books, in Mr. MoUini's parcel. I sent a copy to Mr. M.; and you 
will see a review of it in the June number of my magazine. The 
critic, it is generally thought, has not done the author sufficient jus- 
tice ; but the extracts speak for themselves. My venerable friend, 
Mr. Henry Mackenzie, and a number of our most literary men here, 
have taken the greatest interest in Mr. Pollok, on account of their 
high admiration of his poem. 

" Should Mr. Pollok be so fortunate as to have the honour of 
meeting with you, 1 hope you will find him in better health than 
he is at present, and that you will thank me for introducing him 
to you, I am, madam, your very respectful and most obedient ser- 
vant, 

" W, Blackwood, 

" Mrs, Bell." 

On Wednesday morning, at six o'clock, the 22nd 
of August, he left Edinburgh in a carriage for New 
28* 



330 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Haven, *'Our Lady's Port of Grace," as it was 
called in Papal days, a seaport a mile and a half 
distant from the metropolis. At nine, the steamer 
Soho, for London, sailed, carrying him away for 
ever from his native land. Many friends had ac- 
companied him to the ship ; and, as on a similar oc- 
currence at Ephesus, " they sorrowed most of all " 
because they feared " they would see his face no 
more." 

He had an unusually boisterous passage. The 
North Sea swelled and rolled as if some storm had 
just passed over it and disturbed it. The sickness 
of the passengers, the heaving of the ship, and the 
quivering produced by the engine, the want of air 
below, and the wind and smoke on deck, all con- 
spired to make him very uncomfortable. He ap- 
peared faint and feverish during the voyage, and as 
Mrs. Gilmour could not wait on him, on account 
of sea-sickness, he would have suffered for the want 
of attendance, but for the kind attentions of Miss 
Benson, an English lady, from Thorne, Yorkshire, 
who was a passenger. He landed at Blackwall, in 
the suburbs of London, on Friday noon. 

The remainder of the day and night was spent at 
a hotel. On the following morning, John Pirrie, 
Esq., ex-mayor of London, called, and took him and 
his sister to his own princely mansion, where they 
resided during their stay in the city. His first 
business was to write the following letter : 

" London, Aug. 25, 1827. 
"My Dear Brother, — We anived in London yesterday. Oux 



MALLENA. 



331 



passage from New Haven was exceedingly rough. A steamboat has 
a rolling motion from side to side, while a packet rides beautifully 
over the waves. The captain said he had not made so rough a 
passage during the whole year. I was somewhat fatigued, but 
recover fast. Jean was very sea-sick. I do not know yet when 
we leave London. Mr. Pirrie's establishment is like the establish- 
ment of a prince. 

" You will find the corrected copy of my poem at Dr. Belfrage's. 

" R. POLLOK." 

The following fragment is worthy of a place here. 
There is no clue given of its history. It is probably 
a fancy sketch, suggested by a parting on the sea- 
shore : 

MALLENA. 

A FRAGMENT. 

Dark was the cloud on the mouth of her cave, 

And the red meteor awfully flashing; 
Loud roared the wind, and the sprite of the wave 

'Gainst the lone rock was mournfully dashing. 

She thought of her love, and she wept as she moaned, 

All the echoes of sorrow awaking : 
The cloud darker gloomed, and the main deeper groaned, 

And the heart of Mallena was breaking, 

But a star, lit in heaven by love's angel there. 

Threw a ray on the dark billows tossing ; 
It looked like a smile on the face of despair, 

But it looked where her lover was crossing. 

He stretched out his hand, and she leaped to the boat, 

And again and again she embraced him ; 
Entranced with the bUss, all her cares she forgot, 

And feared not the spirits that chased him. 



332 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

But loud roared the waves to the shriek of the blast, 

And the welkin with thunder was riven ; 
And down 'thwart the wild sky the stars glided fast, 

And the boat on the ocean was driven. 

It was soon ascertained that the ship Amy was 
to sail from London for Leghorn, on the 28th. Ac- 
cordingly, a passage was secured in her for the poet 
and his sister. The intervening two days he spent 
partly in bed, and partly in visiting the principal 
places in the metropolis. It was remarked by Mrs. 
Gilmour that, in entering Westminster Abbey, his 
attention was directed to the Poet's Corner. Who 
can tell what his thoughts were, as he stood and 
gazed on the memorials erected to the Genii of 
Poesy ? It is a legitimate inquiry, whether the harp 
of any one of all that illustrious throng ever con- 
ferred such a boon on man as the author of " The 
Course of Time." The real standard of true great- 
ness is not intellect alone, but intellect steeped in 
holiness. His was " a holy harp." 

The sailing of the Amy was postponed till the 
evening of the 30th, affording him two days longer 
in London. This time he devoted to letter-writing. 
The following is his reply to the students of theology, 
who had addressed him before leaving Glasgow : 

" TO THE STUDENTS OF THE UNITED SECESSION THEOLOGICAL HALL, 
" GLASGOW. 

''London, Aug. 30, 1827. 
"DE'AR Friends and Brethren, — I received your letter with 
great pleasure and satisfaction. So early and so high approbation 
of my work, although in this last I think you have somewhat ex- 
ceeded, cannot fail to keep alive in my heart the warmest feeUngs 



LETTER. 333 

of gratitude to every one of you, and to bring daily to remembrance 
our intimate brotherly connection, our studying under the same 
venerable master, that wherever we are, our interest, our honour, 
our glory, are one. I thank you for the manner in which you 
notice my health. ' The prayer of the righteous availeth much.' 

" I am glad to be able to say, that, notwithstanding a very rough 
and fatiguing passage to London, I recover daily. This evening, 
or to-morrow morning at longest, we embark for Genoa and Leg- 
horn : vessel Amy, Captain Bloomfield. In parting, let me, or rather 
let us, exhort one another, to ' live soberly and righteously and godly 
in this present world' — ' steadfast and immovable, always abounding 
in the work' of our gracious Lord and Master Jesus Christ : so that 
when he, the ' Chief Shepherd, shall appear,' we ' also may appear 
with him in glory,' with crowns of unfading lustre, which he ' shall 
give unto us and all those that love his appearing at that day.' 

" R. POLLOK." 

At the close of a letter which Mrs. Gilmour wrote 
to her father, he added the following lines : — 

" London, Aug 30, 1827. 
" Dear Father, — We arrived safe in London on Friday at mid- 
day, and notwithstanding the roughness of the passage, which was 
the roughest the captain made this season, I sustained it well. I 
have seen much of London. We have fine accommodations for 
Italy, and intend to sail to-morrow. I have had some work to keep 
Mrs. Gilmour to the point. We shall likely be four or five weeks 
at sea : ship's name Amy, captain Bloomfield, for Genoa and Leg- 
horn. We shall write as soon as we land. Have you got a man 1 
See to that. 

" R. POLLOK." 

He loved his friends. His heart was incapable 
of forgetting favors. But gratitude is always an 
attribute of noble minds. Feeble and busy as he 
was in preparing for his voyage, he found time to 
write to his benefactor, Dr. Belfrage, Slateford, near 
Edinburgh : 



334 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

" London, Aug. 30, 1827. 
" Rev. and Dear Sir, — I suppose Miss Benson has told you 
something of our voyage hither. First day, I was extremely well, 
and enjoyed the rough, tempestuous tossing very much. After din- 
ner I went down to take a nap ; soon fell asleep ; and soon awoke, 
feeble and exhausted. I immediately called one of the stewards, who 
frankly told me, what I had indeed discovered, that there was little 
or no air in the place where I had purposed to sleep. An hour or 
two on deck, however, recovered me from this dreadful suffocation. 
At nigiit, I tried to sleep in the dining cabin ; but towards midnight 
it became so hot with steam, that I was obliged to rise, dress, and 
sit up the whole night. Next day, from want of sleep, and from 
fatigue, passed drearily: how to manage the night I knew not. 
After much consultation with the captain and a Dr. Kirk, who was 
on board, I got an excellent place beside the doctor and some of the 
captain's friends, where we were altogether out of the reach of the 
steam. Dr. Kirk, a very fine gentleman, who has made several 
voyages to the East Indies, gave me a sedative draught, and, in the 
course of half an hour, I felt myself infinitely refreshed ; and I had a 
night's good sleep. 

"R. POLLOK." 

The God of Providence most unexpectedly inter- 
posed at the last moment. The schemes of men are 
all built on sand. It requires only a light wind from 
heaven to dissipate them. The Amy was detained 
for two days to let the purposes of God ripen. Dr. 
Gordon, a London physician, to whose attentions 
the poet had been kindly commended by his Edin- 
burgh friends, and who had been unable to find him 
sooner, on account of some error in the address, 
called a few hours before the sailing of the vessel, 
and gave it as his advice, that the journey ought not 
to be undertaken by him in his present feeble state ; 
and recommended as a substitute some quiet place 
in the south of England. The dying bard was 



HELEN S GRAVE. 



335 



pleased with the advice, and was ready to abandon 
the tour, if the passage-money could be refunded. 
Mr. Pirie having assured him that this would be at- 
tended to, he instantly remarked to his sister, his 
pallid countenance being ht up with joy:— "We 
will get some rest now." 

We do not know at what period of his life the 
following beautiful lines were written ; but they are 
ominous, and a fitting sequel to this chapter : 



HELEN'S GRAVE, 

At morn a dew-bathed rose I pass'd, 

All lovely on its native stalk, 
Unmindful of the noonday blast, 

That strewed it on my evening walk. 

So when the morn of life awoke, 

My hopes sat bright on Fancy's bloom, 

Unheedful of the death-aimed stroke, 
That laid them in my Helen's tomb. 

Watch there, my hopes, watch Helen sleep ! 

Nor more with sweet-lipped Fancy rave ; 
But, with the long grass, sigh and weep. 

At dewy eve by Helen's grave. 

The harp of the poet was to be no more retouched 
on earth. The loves and joys of time were to be 
sung by other minstrels. His hopes for this world 
wei-e withering. The next song which he would 
chant would be that of Mosps and the Lamb. He 
had not one moon more to tabernacle below. The 
epoch of his soul's pilgrimage to eternity drew nigh. 



CHAPTER VII. 

" Ambitious now but little to be praised 
Of men alone ; ambitious most to be 
Approved of God, the Judge of all ; and have 
His name recorded in the book of life." 

Southampton, the birthplace of Dr. Isaac Watts, 
lies at the head of the inlet opposite to the Isle 
of Wight. It is remarkable for the salubrity of the 
atmosphere, and beauty of the surrounding scen- 
ery. It was advised by the friends of Mr. Pollok 
in London that he should proceed there and spend 
a short time. Accordingly, on Friday, the 31st 
August, he and his sister entered on their journey of 
seventy-six miles in a private carriage. They trav- 
elled the first day as far as Alton, and reached 
Southampton at noon on the second. During the 
whole of it he could not sit without her support. 
Lodgings were secured at the neat cottage, of Mr. 
Hyde, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about a 
mile out of town. 

The genius of Isaac Watts and Leigh Richmond 
have thrown an imperishable glory all over that dis- 
trict of country. The beautiful lines, 

" Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
This heavenly land from ours," 

are alleged to have been suggested by " the narrow 



SCENERY ABOUT SOUTfl AMPTON. 337 

sea" separating the main land and the isle. The 
thrilling tale of the "Dairyman's Daughter" is like 
an evei-green laurel entwined upon the brow of the 
Jsle of Wight. The pious author of it, too, had 
only died a few months prior to this final earthly 
journey of the Scottish poet. The scenery about 
Southampton, as seen from the Isle of Wight, is 
thus graphically sketched by Mr. Richmond: — 

" South-eastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by the 
horizon. In the north, the sea appeared like a noble river, varying 
from three to seven miles in breadth, between the banks of the op- 
posite coast and those of the island which I inhabited. Immedi- 
ately underneath me, was a fine woody district of country, diver- 
sified by many pleasing objects. Distant towns were visible on the 
opposite shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station 
which this northern channel afforded them. The eye roamed with 
delight over an expanse of near and remote beauties, which alter- 
nately caught the observation, and which harmonized together, and 
produced a scene of peculiar interest." 

Beautiful, however, and paradise-like as South- 
ampton was at that season of the year, it is strange 
that intelligent friendship and medical foresight 
should have sanctioned the poet's going to his own 
burial. Mrs. Gilmour's sisterly love and good sense 
is brought out with singular contrast in this move- 
ment. It is certainly a false philosophy which leads 
the physician to recommend the dying invalid to 
travel into "a far country." Why was not the 
great Christian bard of Scotland afforded the ines- 
timable privilege of dying at home, amid the hal- 
low^ed scenes of his life ? If there is one earthly 
blessing which is to be desired when the soul is put- 
15 



338 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ting off this earthly tabernacle, it is that of gazing 
on fond faces and hearing the soft accents of well- 
known voices. Il is true that the presence of Christ 
is every thing to the dying Christian ; and yet who 
does not desire, as he enters within the portals of 
eternity, to see the eyes of his beloved one shining, 
like holy stars, on the last battlement of time. Eli- 
sha, the beloved successor of the great Elijah, was 
the only spectator of the translation. It was the fa- 
vourite disciples who were present at the Transfig- 
uration ; and none were permitted to see the ascen- 
sion but his followers and kindred. It is a sacred 
feeling implanted in the human soul, for it to seek to 
leave its dying body in the embrace of those it 
loves. The author of "The Course of Time" 
should have been conveyed back to Scotland to die 
at Moorhouse : — 

" Where first " he " heard of God's redeeming love j 
First felt and reasoned, loved and was beloved, 
And first awoke the harp to holy song." 

Mr. Pollok was exceedingly exhausted by the long 
journey ; and although the day was surpassingly 
beautiful, the air bland, and the scenery entrancing, 
he was compelled to retire to his chamber, and lay 
on his couch during the remainder of the day. He 
passed, also, a sleepless and restless night. In the 
morning, which was Sabbath, he expressed a strong 
desire to rise and walk out in Shirley Common, and, 
to use his own language, " that he might feel the 
fresh breezes of Heaven." His wish was gratified; 



A PICTURE OF BEAUTY. 339 

his sister accompanied him, taking a cushion and 
Bible with her, at his request. During the short 
walk, he sat down several times, while she read to 
him. 

This is a scene for the artist to put down in un- 
fading colors, on the living canvas. It was as 
beautiful a Sabbath-day as had visited earth since 
the expulsion of the race from Eden. The soft 
breezes seemed to come from the lands of violets, 
roses and thyme. The sky looked far, far away ; 
with an illumined white cloud, floating here and 
there in its vast expansion, like the mysterious dra- 
pery of a meditative angel, who voyaged leisurely 
through immensity. The trees stood looking up to 
heaven, with their rich offerings of leaves and fruits 
in their outspread hands. The lark hymned his 
anthems high above the earth, and his music came 
down like strains from another sphere. The poet 
walked, and sat, and mused in the midst of this 
earthly magnificence and glory, like one who waited 
for the coming of seraphim to take him over the 
Jordan. If the eye of flesh could have looked in 
upon the invisible state, then would there have ap- 
peared the whole pageantry and circumstance of 
heaven ; — the great cloud of witnesses, the minister- 
ing angels, the crown ready for the dying bard, and 
chiefest, the "Elder Brother" of the saints. 

The poet never fully rallied from the exhaustion 
of the long journey. During each of the next three 
days, he was able to walk in the beautiful garden of 
the cottage, though evidently becoming feebler with 



340 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

every setting sun. He seemed to be calm, reflective, 
and happy. No word of discontent or impatience 
escaped his hps. On the contrary, his soul rose 
higher and higher in moral grandeur, as the house 
of clay decayed and toppled down. Why should 
it have been otherwise ? Was not the angel con- 
scious of its approaching triumph ? The soul-part 
was about entering into the second mystery of 
existence. The first and last forms of human na- 
ture are bodily states; the middle one is a pure 
spirit condition. The first is a mortal body-state ; 
the second a pure spirit-state, and the third a spir- 
itual-body state. He must have had the sensations 
of eternity. It has often appeared to us, that the 
soul must feel the presence of the invisible world, as 
it stands on the last promontory of time; just as the 
earth-traveller, in a dark night, becomes conscious 
of his approach to a mountain or a lake. On the 
fifth day, he was so faint as to be unable to leave 
his bed ; and to use Mrs. Gilmour's expressive lan- 
guage, " he never had his foot on this earth more." 
The Bible was the only book which he spoke 
about, or read. Sir Walter Scott, some fourteen 
years afterwards, on his dying bed, also limited his 
reading to it. The author of " The Course of 
Time" might have spoken about his own poem, for 
it was an illustration and poetical exhibition of 
the scheme of mercy ; but every thing human was 
adumbrated by the glory of the Bible. He often 
requested his sister to read portions of the Psalms 
and of John's Gospel. These had, for many years, 



THE POET NEAR HIS HOME. 341 

been his favourite books of Scripture. The former 
he admired for their spiritual sublimity, and the 
latter for its spiritual simplicity. 

It became known to a few persons in Southamp- 
ton, that the author of the new, religious poem, 
" The Course of Time," was there, and in a dying 
condition. Among those who called on him, and 
offered him attentions, were the Rev. Dr. Wilson, 
Rector of the parish, Owen Lloyd, Esq., of Dublin, 
who was there at the time with his invalid wife ; 
Drs. Denholm, Parker, Stewart, and a young Scotch 
physician. But man could do nothing for him. The 
time of his departure was at hand. The shadow 
marking his exit, had fallen 

** Upon the dial's face, Which yonder stands 
In gold, before the Sun of Righteousness." 

He would soon be Vv'ith the Poets of Eternity— the 
holy bards whose lays had been consecrated to God. 
On the tenth, Dr. Stewart, on leaving his apart- 
ment, was followed by Mrs. Gilmour. He answered 
her inquiries frankly, by stating that he had no 
hopes of her brother's recovery. When she re- 
entered, Robert asked her what Dr. Stewart had 
said to her. She evaded his question, but he re- 
peated it: she then told him the whole that had 
passed. He heard her without any visible emotion ; 
but after a short silence, as if revolving something 
in his mind, proposed to send to London for Dr. 
Gordon, the physician who had dissuaded him from 
going to Italy. Here Mrs. Gilmour revealed to him 



342 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Drs. Belfrage and Abercrombie's apprehensions con- 
cerning his case before he left Edinburgh, with a 
view of showing him that medical wisdom could do 
nothing for him. He made no reply^ but continued 
to look fixedly, for some moments in her face. At 
last he moved his position in bed, and commenced 
discoursing with her calmly and joyfully about death 
and eternity. There is an incident in this event 
not dissimilar to one in the supposed death-sickness 
of Hezekiah. When the prophet told the king that 
he was dying, he changed his position on his couch. 
The day following these disclosures, he requested 
Mrs. Gilmour to write immediately 'to his father. 
He had deferred writing from day to day, expecting 
to be able to say he w^as better ; but now the mys- 
tery of his case was cleared up. She sat down, and 
wrote as follows :— 

^^Southampton, Sept. 11, 1827. 

" My Dear Father, — On the morning of the 31st of last month, 
instead of saiUng for Italy, we set off for Southampton, about sev- 
enty-six miles from London, which journey we accompHshed in a 
day and a half But Robert was so much fatigued with the jolting 
of the carriage that he has been fevered ever since, and has been 
confined to bed for five or six days past. A surgeon from South- 
ampton has attended him daily during that time ; and yesterday he 
told me he had little hope of my brother's getting better. Still, how- 
ever, there is hope, for the fever is abated in some measure. Yes- 
terday and to-day he seems to have more ease. He now speaks 
often of death, and rather regrets tliat he was sent so far from 
his friends. But he is resigned to the will of Providence. We 
have very comfortable lodgings, and a remarkably kind landlady, 
who has had a great deal of trouble herself, so that she sympathi- 
zes with Robert very much. She is also well acquainted with 
cooking any nice dish that he can fancy. 



THE POET S LAST LETFER. 343 

" He has a great desire to see our brother David here ; and if 
you could get notice to hira soon, he could come by the mail straight 
through to London, and thence in a few hours to Southampton. 

" Robert sleeps a great deal to-day, so that I have leisure to 
write. I am sitting at his bed-foot, in a neat clean room, in a little 
cottage, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about one mile from 
Southampton. Our landlord is an old man and remarkably quiet, 
his vfhole family consists of his wife and a maid-servant, and 
he keeps three cows. I mention this because Robert has been so 
fond of milk since coming here, and he has got it every way he 
wished. He seems better to-day, and feels some rest to his bones, 
as he expresses it. I am quite well myself, and feel more comforta- 
ble now since Robert seems sensible of his frail state, and is so re- 
signed, and I hope prepared for whatever may be the consequence. 
I have not needed to sit a whole night with him yet, but have to 
rise three or four times in the night — my bed is in the same room. 

" Tell my husband I expect to be home soon. I am yours, &c, 

" Jean Pollok." 

After she had written, and read it to him, he an- 
nexed the following Hnes, on the unfinished page. 
They are the last he ever wrote : — 

" Dear Father, — It is with difficulty that I can repeat what my 
sister has written above, that I wish David to come off immediately. 
Whatever my gracious and merciful God and Saviour has in de- 
sign with me at this time, David's presence«\vill be equally useful. 
Let nothing delay his immediate coming. Wherever he is, the 
Presbytery will at once set him at liberty in a case of this kind. My 
sister is often much distressed ; but we pray for one another, and 
take comfort in the gracious promises of God. I hope I am pre- 
pared for the issue of this trouble, whether life or death. Pray for 
me. 

" R. POLLOK." 

At his suggestion Mrs. Gilmour wrote also about 
this time to the Rev. Dr. Brown of Edinburgh, and 
Ex-Mayor Pirrie, of London, apprizing them of 



344 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

his true situation. On requesting her to do it, he 
said that he felt neither able to dictate nor to write. 

Although he lived for a week after he learned 
the opinion of the physicians, he never manifested 
any unwillingness to die, or uttered a complaint. 
He conversed, too, readily and cheerfully about 
death and eternity. The grave had no terrors to 
him, nor did he manifest any alarm for the future, 
excepting on one occasion. His sister and he were 
conversing familiarly about death at the time, and 
in the course of the conversation he spoke " of be- 
ing afraid to die." She instantly replied to him, "I 
thought you would not be afraid to die ; our brother 
James was not afraid of dying." " Yes," said the 
poet, " he was not afraid to die, but I have great 
sins." To this Mrs. Gilmour responded, " I thought 
you w^ould not have great sins." " Ah," he added, 
*' I have great sins ;" after pausing an instant, he 
continued : "but I have also a great Saviour." The 
cloud had only hovered for an instant between his 
soul and the gracious presence of the High Priest 
in heaven. "If* any man sin, we have an advo- 
cate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." 
" They looked unto him, and were lightened." 

He spent a great portion of his time in prayer 
and communion wdth God. The hour that he an- 
ticipated in his poem was in one sense very near to 
him. Hs was great in prayer, as numerous places in 
his immortal song most clearly demonstrate. Nor 
is there any one of his supplications more beautiful 
and saint-like, than the one in the opening of the 



SAINTS AT PRAYER LIKE ANGELS. 345 

fourth book. Part of it was no doubt frequently 
uttered by him at this time, as he waited for the 
angel embassy to carry him home. These are the 
words : — 

" The day 
Of Judgment ! greatest day, passed ov to come ! 
Day ! which, — deny me what thou wilt, deny 
Me home, or friend, or honourable name, — 
Thy mercy grant, I, thoroughly prepared, 
With comely garment of redeeming love, 
May meet and have my Judge for Advocate." 

A saint at prayer reminds us always of an an- 
gel talking to God. Dr, Chalmers, the Paul of the 
nineteenth century, was heard the evening before 
his decease, saying, as he walked up and down in 
his garden, "My Father, my Father!" Was not 
this one of earth's greatest angels, holding colloquy 
from the battlements of time with the Almighty as 
he sat on the white throne of eternity ? Who has 
ever read at midnight the intercessory prayer of 
Christ, and not felt the mystic drapery which hangs 
between the two states of being, trembling as if it was 
stirred by wind ? Pollok prayed much, according 
to his sister's statement. She prayed audibly too 
for him on one occasion, at his special request. He 
also asked Mr. Lloyd to pray for him a few days be- 
fore his death, to which this gentleman replied that 
he was not accustomed to pray before clergymen, 
but would cheerfully comply with his wishes. The 
poet declared that he was greatly refreshed with this 
prayer. " The effectual fervent prayer of a right- 
eous man availeth much." 

15* 



346 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

On the morning of Monday, the 17th, he grew 
suddenly worse, and continued exceedingly restless 
during the whole of the day. His sister also ob- 
served that his sense of hearing became supernatu- 
rally acute. He could hear her ordinary respira- 
tions. Every movement disturbed him. The very 
light-footed air seemed to annoy him. There is 
some great mystery connected with the soul's un- 
robing, which the living have never fathomed. The 
history of death-beds shows that the organs of hear- 
ing and seeing are both often unaccountably quick- 
ened. A dying boy said, not long since, to his 
mother — " I see a great way off." It was similar 
with the poet, he could hear things at a great dis- 
tance. The hum of an earth city is heard, and the 
sheen of its minarets is seen, by the traveller, often 
when he is yet leagues distant from it. Why may 
not, then, tidings of eternity break in on the senses 
of the dying, as they are drawing near to the last 
promontory in the isthmus of time ? About ten 
o'clock at night he sat up in bed, and prayed audi- 
bly. His "conversation was in heaven." He 
seemed to speak directly to " the Ancient of Days \" 
Perhaps he felt that this was the last formal offering 
of prayer which he would make. The incense from 
the ancient altars went up through the sky in the 
midst of smoke, but the smoke went not with it into 
heaven ; so Christ, no doubt, presented this prayer, 
purged of its dross, in the golden censer. In a lit- 
tle while after praying, he lay down and fell into a 
deep sleep. Drs. Stewart and Denholm came in as 



THE POET S LAST NIGHT ON EARTH. 347 

he slept, but science could do nothing more for the 
sleeper. They moved his pillow, so as to place his 
head in a more comfortable position, and told Mrs. 
Gilmour to be prepared for the worst that night. 
They saw that the taper of life was flickering in the 
socket ; and that a single wind from " the valley of 
the shadow of death" would blow it out. 

There he lay alone in that chamber of death, in 
Southampton, with no human being beside him but 
his sister. There were friends in the town, w^ho 
would gladly have spent the night with him, but he 
preferred the quietness of an almost total solitude. 
His soul no doubt stood watching for the light of 
eternal day, as the body slept. It may be that he 
had a dream of heaven and glory. About twelve 
o'clock he moved, and moaned. It was a " strange, 
moan," to use the language of his sister ; perhaps it 
was the utterance of an emotion, which was pro- 
duced by revelations too great for the body. She 
addressed him and said, " You are going to leave us 
now, Robert." He gave no reply at the moment to 
this ; after, however, she had moistened his lips, he 
answered distinctly — '"' Aye." This was the last 
word he uttered. He was then hovering like a star 
between two worlds. 

He seemed to fall asleep again, at which time his 
sister went and called Mrs. Hyde, the hostess, who 
had expressed a wish to see him die. In about half 
an hour he opened his eyes, which were bright and 
beautiful. It was the last look which his soul had 
of earth before its disembodiment. He was think- 



348 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

ing, for it was a look of intelligence and of love. 
He soon closed his eyes. They will never be opened 
again till the trumpet of the archangel awaken the 
death-sleepers. He seemed to sleep for half an hour 
more, when the angel of death came and opened the 
prison doors of his house of clay. His sister knew 
he was dead, because he ceased to breathe. There 
was no death-struggle, no agony, no convulsion ; his 
soul went out of the body all noiseless and fast ; like 
Peter from the prison, when the angel took off the 
fetters, opened the gate, and delivered him. The 
author of " The Course of Time" was not ! " God 
took him" at one o'clock on Tuesday, the 18th of 
September, 1827, in the twenty-ninth year of his 
age. The inscription on Cromwell's coffin is a his- 
tory of his departure : — " He died with great assui'- 
ance and serenity of soul.'''' 

As soon as the news of his death reached Glas- 
gow, the theological students of the Secession 
Church, and many friends of the poet, held a meet- 
ing, at which it was resolved to bring his body to 
Scotland. The following letter was written by 
Henry Bell, Esq., of Helensburgh, to the poet's 
father, requesting his permission. This gentleman 
was related to the family by marriage. 

" Sir, — I am sorry at the irreparable loss that you and the fam- 
ily have met with in the death of the Rev. Robert Pollok. My ear- 
nest prayer is, that it may be sanctified to you and all friends. 

" It is the request of a great number of his late fellow-students to 
have his corpse brought down to Scotland, and interred in the new 
burying-ground underneath Dr. Mitchell's church, where a monu- 
ment is to be erected upon his grave ; but before taking this step, it 



THE poet's burial. 349 

is necessary to have your consent, which I hope JonW^Ug^.e. 
Please send your son down to-morrow to Mr Robert Hood s, Can- 
dlericcrs, as he and a number of friends wish to send off two stu- 
dentrby the mail-coach to-morrow night, on purpose to bnng down 
his corpse by a steam vessel. I hope you will comply with the re- 

quest. 

I am Sir, your most obedient servant, 
u Glasgow, ktk Sept. 1827." " Henky Bell. 

This scheme, however, was not carried out. 
Many things interposed to prevent it. David l^ol- 
lok's absence was one, for he had left for Southamp- 
ton on the 20th, immediately on receiving the con- 
joint letter of Mrs. Gilmour and Robert, of the 11th, 
requesting his presence there. Another thing also, 
was the fact that the funeral had taken place before 
the committee was prepared to leave Glasgow. 
Other reasons, likewise, seemed to point out the ex- 
pediency of a postponement of the scheme. Delays 
are usually disastrous to enterprises ; it was so m 
this matter, for it has never since been agitated to 
any extent. 

Mrs. Gilmour, and Mr. Pirrie who went on from 
London to attend to the obsequies, selected the 
church-yard of Milbrook, about two miles from 
Southampton, and lying on the sea-shore, as the fit- 
test place for immediate sepulture. On Friday the 
21st all that was mortal of the author of ihe 
Course of Time" " was carried to his burial," by a 
few invited friends. Perhaps the paucity of mortal 
attendants was more than overbalanced by the le- 
gions of angels who were present. The Rev Mr. 
Molesworth read the Episcopal beautiful burial ser- 



350 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

vice in the open grave-yard. Scotland gave him 
birth, and England a peaceful grave. He was 
nursed and educated in that department of the 
Church of Christ committed to the Presbytery, and 
on his death-bed Episcopacy offered him the same 
Gospel in its chalice, and he was solaced. At his 
burial there were represented Congregationalism, in 
the person of the Rev. Mr. Adkins ; Presbyterian- 
ism, in his own person ; and Episcopacy in that of 
the officiating clergyman. Why should it have 
been otherwise ? was he not the bard of the visible 
Church ? Earth has had none greater since ; nay, 
the holy harp of God remains to this day without a 
harper. 

Letters of condolence from the Rev. Drs. Brown 
and Belfrage, Ex-Mayor Pirrie, from the students in 
Glasgow, and numerous individuals of distinction, 
were soon received at Moorhouse ; but the " old 
man" became, by means of them, only more and 
more conscious of his irremedial loss. It was mani- 
fest that the most brilliant star of holy minstrelsy in 
all Scotland had set forever beyond the horizon of 
time. 

When a few months had passed away, and the 
plan of bringing the ashes of the bard to Scotland 
had been abandoned, Drs. Belfrage and Brown, the 
treasurers of the fund which had been raised to send 
him to Italy, issued a circular to the contributors, 
stating that there were fifty-five pounds remaining 
in their hands ; and which they proposed should be 
appropriated to the erection of a monument over 



GERM OF THE DESCRIPTION OF BYRON. 351 

his grave. This proposition met with universal fa- 
vour, and, in 1828, an obelisk of Peterhead granite 
was placed over his remains. Besides the dates of 
his birth and death, it has the following inscription, 
written by the Rev. Dr. Brown : — 

OF 

AUTHOR OF 

"THE COURSE OF TIME." 
HIS IMMORTAL POEM 

IS HIS 
MONUMENT. 

KRECTED BY ADMIRERS OF HIS GENIUS. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

'' These other, there relaxed beneath the shade 
Of yon embowering palms, with friendship's smile, 
And talk of ancient days, and young pursuits, 
Of dangers passed, of godly triumphs won; 
And sing the legends of their native land, 
Less pleasing far than this their Father's house." 

In October, 1828, I visited Moorhouse in com- 
pany with Dr. James Dobson, of Eaglesham, the 
poet's intimate friend and ardent admirer ; nor can I 
close this biography without introducing a memorial 
or two of it, from the hght which it casts on some 
of the locahties adverted to in the poem, as well as 
on some incidents of the poet and his friend. 

There is no carriage road from the beautiful vil- 
lage of Eaglesham to Morehouse, a distance of 
nearly four miles. The intervening tract is also 
mountainous, affording pasturage chiefly for sheep 
and cattle. There is little arable land and a sparse 
population. It was a beautiful morning that we en- 
tered on this excursion ; the air exhilarating and 
fresh, and the autumn sun an hour or two above 
the horizon. As we ascended the mountain path, 
the smoke of the village seemed to twine like an 
ethereal ravine and pathway far up amid the blue 
immensity. The woodcock and plover ever and 
anon rose up at the noise of our footsteps, and ou 



VISIT TO MOORHOUS". 353 

whirring wings hasted from our path. We had not 
travelled far before the doctor turned my attention 
to " the neighbouring hill" of " The Course of Time," 
over one of the spurs of which we were crossing. 
But every step of the journey was made intellect- 
ual by allusion to passages in the poem and to inci- 
dents in the life of the poet. 

We had proceeded over many a ''hillock," and 
paused to admire many a scene of indescribable pan- 
oramic beauty ; when the doctor, suddenly laying 
his hand on my arm, said " Stop." We had reached 
at the time a point about half way between the vil- 
lage and Moorhouse. " This rock is the poet's pul- 
pit," said he, pointing to a huge mass of granite which 
lay before our feet, a block of stone dissevered from 
the adjoining hill, and covered with the moss of 
centuries. It brought to my mind, as I gazed on it, 
that graphic line of Burns, 

" Yon auld gray stane amang the heather." 

I put my hand on the rock, and looking up into 
the countenance of my friend, who stood in a niche 
of it, listened to the history of the poet's pulpit. 

"Often," said he, "has Robert stood upon this 
stone and recited his effusions to me. Here have I 
listened to him reading the most graphic portions of 
" The Course of Time." " I can never forget," he 
continued to remark, his eyes glistening with excite- 
ment, " I can never forget this stone. It was here 
I heard him recite the memorable description of By- 
ron, on the evening of the day it was composed. In 



354 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

the afternoon of a cold, bleak day," he went on to 
say, "just as I had finished grinding my largest and 
best glass," — the doctor was an amateur optician, — 
*' Robert walked in, and after sitting a short time, 
rose and asked me to accompany him a little dis- 
tance. We had scarcely reached the door, till he 
told me he had walked over the moor to read some 
lines to me which he had written that day, at one 
sitting ; but that I must wait till we got to the Crow 
Stone." 

Interrupting him in his narrative, — " Doctor, said 
I, did Pollok tell you that the lines referred to By- 
ron?" 

" No" was the reply, — " I knew whom he meant, 
before he read them half through." 

"And what did you say about them ?" continuing 
to address him. 

Quoth he, " I told Robert the episode was too 
long, but with all its failings, it would be read when 
many of Byron's own productions were forgotten." 

After a moment's silence, the doctor told me to 
set down on a smooth stone near by ; while he re- 
cited to me some lines in which the poet had im- 
mortalized their friendship, and the place itself As 
soon as I was seated and he had placed himself on 
the very spot, the poet used to stand, he recited as 
follows : — 

THE CROW STONE. 

A Fragment. 

Far in a waste by sombre heath o'ergrown, 

Some reverend stones their hoary heads display j 



THE CROW STONE. 355 

From Nature's hand, in grand disorder thrown, 

They rest the wanderer on his desert way : 

One doth conspicuous all the rest survey, 
Which seem to whisper homage in the blast. 

By Heaven prepared the weary mortal's stay ; 
Here leaned the wanderer of the ages past ; 
The weary here shall lean while time and wandering last. 

Hither, allured by nature mild and lone. 

Strayed, thoughtful, sad, a youth and hoary sage : 
Old Omar rested on the monarch stone, 

An humbler seat became young Edgar's age. 

'Twas their delight to read the desert-page 
That stills the passions, and exalts the mind ; 

On both their years bleak Fortune spent her rage, — 
But spent in vain : to Heaven their souls resigned, 
Serene on earth they gazed, for God was ever kind. 

Far, on each side, the wasteful heaths extend. 

And nought of art the wandering gaze espies; 
Blue, gloomy hills the distant prospects end. 

Whose heads exalted seem to prop the skies. 

Wide Silence reigns, save when the lonely cries 
Of desert fowl break on the timorous air; 

Or when the Iamb, where verdant hillocks rise, 
Salutes its dam, unknown to guilt and care. 
Such scenes the wanderers' souls were amply formed to share. 

Long on these scenes the pensive Omar mused ; 

Then thus his words to Edgar were addrest : — 
" Heaven-favored youth ! to early sorrow used, 

Early the desert was thy sweetest rest ; 

Early thou sought'st to be in thinking blest: 
When giddy youths, in thoughtless, joyless mirth, 

Wasted their days, and parents' hearts opprest, 
'Twas thine to ponder o'er the desert earth. 
Talk with thy youthful soul, and cherish deathless worth. 

" Ah ! how unwise the busy fluttering race. 

Who from themselves to wanton tumults fly ! 



356 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

Their reason lost in passion's thorny maze, 

No ray divine beams through their troubled sky ; 
Awhile they rave, and in their raving die. 

Ah ! there, my son, 's a waste of human woes; 
There lions prowl, and filthy harpies cry ; 

There Sirens lull the soul to curst repose. 
But in this wild serene the soul is far from foes." 

There was a long solemn pause after the utter- 
ance of the last line. I looked up into the face of 
my friend, and it was evident his thoughts were 
with the dead. — The silence continued. — The ven- 
erable gentleman took his kerchief and hid his face. 
— Still there was no word uttered. I saw him wipe 
away the tears. I was young — not entered upon 
manhood ; yet I felt a weakness coming over me. 
I too wept. That morning the poet's pulpit, as they 
had facetiously named it, was consecrated with tears. 
But who would not give a tear to the memory of 
the holy dead ? 

About a mile distant from Moorhouse, stands the 
only habitation which we passed in our course. 
We called here, nor shall I ever forget the kindness 
and simplicity of that interesting family. The iso- 
lated inhabitants among the mountains of Scotland, 
know little about the great world beyond their own 
hills. Happy people ! happy land ! Such ignorance 
is bliss ! 

While the doctor was in the sick chamber, I sat 
conversing with the hostess about the poet, for I 
was cuiiious to learn every thing relating to his his- 
tory. Nor can I now detail my astonishment, on 
hearing that vagueness and mystery enveloped his 



MOORHOUSE AND SCENERY AROUND. 357 

glory in the midst of the very scenes he had immor- 
talized. " They tell me," said she, " that he has made 
a great book, and that all the learned folks praise it 
wonderfully." " Poor lad," she continued, " he did 
na live long after he got his lair. — What do ye 
think?" said she, addressing the doctor, who had 
now joined us, " folks have come far and near to 
see the auld hoose where he was born, and one of 
them actually made a picture of it, and took it with 
him." 

The poet, I learned, was a favourite with the fam- 
ily. His sayings and doings were not forgotten ; 
and there were members of it, who spoke of summer 
hours and moonlight walks spent whh him on the 
hills. 

On leaving this house we soon saw Moorhouse 
for the first time, though born within a few miles of 
it. It was a thatched, oblong, old building, lying 
near the bottom of a basin formed by surrounding 
hills. From the '' hill head" on which we stood, the 
northern and western shores of Scotland were dis- 
tinctly visible. The peaks of mountains too, some 
seventy or a hundred miles distant, stood before us 
holding up the sky. I never gazed on a more maor- 
nificent panorama. Hills, vales, woods, rivers, seas, 
ships, islands, hamlets, cities, and flocks were spread 
before us. He sings : — 

" Nor do I of that isle remember aught 
Of prospect more subHme and beautiful, 
Than Scotia's northern battlement of hills, 
Which first I from my father's house beheld, 
At dawn of life." 



358 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

We descended the hill, and in a few minutes 
found ourselves at Moorhouse. There were two 
houses several yards apart, and so placed as to form 
two sides of a square. The out-buildings I cannot 
now describe. The building on the left was the res- 
idence of the poet's eldest brother John, the other 
the paternal mansion. The father of the bard met 
us ; he was a fresh old man of at least threescore 
years. He was a little bent and bald, yet active, 
and ruddy of countenance. He had seen us com- 
ing, and left the labors of the field to salute us. 
Even yet I seem to feel the pressure of his hand, 
and to hear the hearty salutations of his voice. 

We entered the building, passed through the 
kitchen, and were soon seated in that memorable 
chamber, where the wonderful imagery of Heaven, 
Hell, and Earth 

" Sought admission in his song." 

What a crowd of strange thoughts threaded the 
sanctuary of my mind ! I sat in the chamber of 
inspiration. On the very chair in which had sat 

" The true legitimate, anointed bard, 
Whose song through ages pours its melody." 

My arm rested on the very table, where the ideas 
were made incarnate and given in verse to immor- 
tality. Around me, either stood or sat the father, 
brother, sister, niece. That babe, now a little girl, 

" That neither smiled 
Nor wept, nor knew who gazed upon 't," 



SCENE AT MOORHOUSE. 359 

as its dying mother 

" Looked upon its face, 

and sought 
For it — unutterable blessings." 

A beloved and invalid cousin, was also there. 
She had been reading before we entered the room, 
and as she rose to receive us, laid the volume on the 
table. 1 lifted it unconsciously, opened it, and where 
a leaf was folded down, there seemed a round wet 
spot on these significant lines : — 

" The man she mourns was all she calls her own ; 
The music of her ear, light of her eye, 
Desire of all her heart, her hope, her fear, 
The element in which her passions lived.'' 

As I laid it down, I saw inscribed in the peculiar 
autograph of the Bard : — 



TO MISS MARY ANN 



I shall never forget that visit to Moorhouse ; it is 
one of the greenest spots in the memory of past 
years. The faces, the conversation and the incidents 
are all engraven on my soul. Alas ! the immortal- 
ized niece, Janet Young, the invalid cousin, the 
venerable father, and my beloved friend, " Old 
Omar," 

"A worthy man," 

are all gone away to the spirit land since that 
memorable visit. They are registered among the 
chronicles of the dwellers in eternity. 



360 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

A few more touches alone remain to be added to 
this portraiture of Mr. Pollok, before we place it 
amid the gallery of likenesses, which earth cannot 
willingly give to oblivion and forgetfulness ; or rather, 
all that is necessary now, is to bring the picture into 
the sunlight of observation, and mark the strong 
characteristics of his inner and outer nature. 

And first in this serial scrutiny, we notice his 
form and appearance. His stature was five feet and 
nine inches ; symmetrical, muscular and erect. He 
had the air and mien of a vigorous, elastic and ac- 
tive man. His forehead was large, his features 
chiselled-like and correct ; his e3^es black, preg- 
nant with divine thought and intelligence. His hair 
dark, and his countenance touched with the ohvaster 
shade. It was easy to see that he was an uncom- 
mon man. His look was that of a high-souled gen- 
ius incarnate. 

His manners are next in this pictorial analysis. 
And here it is difficult to communicate the whole 
truth ; for sometimes he seemed cold and reserved ; 
and again, on other occasions, frank, affable, and jo- 
cose. Much depended on his mood of mind. As a 
general thing, however, he was not only agreeable, 
but attractive. His wonderful and varied acquisi- 
tions in the latter part of his life, made his presence 
very desirable in the intelligent circle. He pos- 
sessed uncommon powers of sarcasm ; and when 
roused in debate, was absolutely withering. His 
tone of voice and gestures, too, on such occasions, 
were inimitable, and eloquence itself 



CHARACTERISTICS OF THE POET. 361 

It is a remarkable fact that he had no musical 
talent ; indeed, he had no taste for scientific music. 
Still he could appreciate sweet sounds, and was far 
from being insensible to the witchery and enchant- 
ment of his native airs. Had his mina been turned 
to the study of harmonious sounds in early life, he 
could no doubt have attained to excellence in the 
science. The true philosophical doctrine on this 
subject is, that which affirms the capability of every 
mind attaining the power of exemplifying music, 
orally or instrumentally. 

He was a student. This seems manifest in every 
incident of his biography. Like the gold-washers, 
who separate the sand and alluvial soil from the ore, 
he sought for ideas as the true jewelry of art and 
science. Whatever the field of study was, which 
he explored, he never lost sight of the proper aim 
of investigation. He never attained to profound 
knowledge in the several departments of a college 
course. He was not an Erasmus or a Parr in phi- 
lology ; a Niebuhr or an Arnold in history; a Schil- 
ler in general literature ; yet, like them, he went 
into the very caverns of thought, and into the under 
stsata of human opinions. No man Hving has any 
means of ascertaining now, w^hat was the real depth 
and magnitude of his acquisitions. He stands out 
as a model to every young man. He was inflexible 
in purpose, and untiringly assiduous in the pursuit 
of human and divine knowledge. 

He was a poet. It is difficult to know where to 
place him in the galaxy of poetic stars. The small- 
16 



362 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

est planets are nearest to the sun ; the greatest the 
farthest remote. If he is to be judged by this 
phenomenon, then he is a small orb of song ; be- 
cause, his poem hangs in the proximity of the great 
white throne, which is the very centre of sovereignty. 
Our opinion is, that he is not to be compared with 
the bards whose lays are earthy, and furbished with 
the lustre of a false philosophy and a spurious the- 
ology. On the contrary, be is to be viewed as stand- 
ing alone in the nineteenth century, on the mountain 
height of inspiration. His thoughts, imagery, phra- 
seology, and mould are ail his own, and most appro- 
priate for the great psalm which he indited. 

His piety is the instinctive principle in the por- 
trait. It is the soul, the mind, the heart. The other 
things are the mere shadings and drapery. Nor can 
there be a doubt entertained about his union to 
Christ. It may be difficult to decide at what mo- 
ment in his life he passed from death unto life ; but 
that he was " born again" is as clear as any fact of 
such magnitude can well be. 

His " Tales of the Covenanters" are rich with the 
very essence of the Gospel. He everywhere mag- 
nifies the grace of God, and sets forth the righteous- 
ness of Christ. His compunctions on account of 
sin are scriptural ; his faith is saving, and not that 
of mere confidence in testimony. He sees with an 
enlightened mind and feels with a sanctified heart. 
His characters are either Christians, or persons in 
the blindness of an unconverted state. Their 
speeches are also befitting their conditions. 



THE COURSE OF TIME 363 

His Poem, too, is full of unction. It is incompar- 
able among all other lays for the depth of its piety. 
He who judges it by mere intellect, overlooks its 
richest jewelry and most soul-ravishing beauties. 
The poet brings heaven into the near suburbs of 
earth, and discourses like one who has great intima- 
cy with '•' the Ancient of Days." He that would 
make others weep must weep himself; so he who 
can melt the reader into a devotional state of mind, 
must himself be anouited by heaven. There are 
not wanting cases of conversion produced by read- 
ing " The course of Time.'"' Nay, its piety is its 
glory. It stands alone among human songs in this 
particular. No other bard of earth has infused into 
his minstrelsy such a savour of heaven and eternity. 
It was written in the very intervals from prayer and 
reading the Bible. In every relation of life, Mr. 
Pollok's piety is conspicuous. He was a pious 
youth, son, student, friend, brother, preacher and 
poet. He died, too, as a holy bard might be expect- 
ed to die. His influence for good on the earth will 
continue Vvhile there is one saint walking through 
the wilderness of the world. "Be thou faithful 
unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." 

In this biography, I have endeavoured to bring 
out in relievo the intellectual and moral lineaments 
of the author of " The Course of Time." 'My duty 
has been that of the artist who touches the canvas 
with the various colours of the rainbow, until the 
living likeness arises as a creation before him ; or like 
the sculptor who strikes the rock with his mallet, 



364 LIFE OF POLLOK. 

and fashions the eloquent and beautiful statue. If I 
have failed to give life, likeness and beauty to the 
design, still the effort has been beneficial to my own 
mind, and will, perchance, be received as an honest, 
though defective memorial^ of the great Christian 
Poet of this century^ 

" But what avails 
My mention of liis name : before the throne 
He stands illustrious 'mong the loudest harps." 



THE END. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: April 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 



A/ 



If .> '- 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 528 297 4 



